The Avenging of Natalie Laufeyson
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: "So I'm dealing with the mother of all PTSD, random circles of destruction, ruling a world that may or may not want me, and a werewolf. Well, no one said marriage to the Norse god of Mischief was easy." Book 3 of the 'Avenging' series. T for violence and language.
1. PTSD Sucks

"Are you certain that you should do this?" Loki asked worriedly, standing by the empty, crystalline doorframe. He'd been standing there for almost a full three minutes before he'd decided to speak; and even now, he knew it was futile.

I knew he was just worried, so I kept myself from rolling my eyes, and fought back the impatient reply. Rubbing my hands together and blowing warm air on them for a moment in an attempt to work out some of the numbness, I picked up the last item on my little paper list- a pencil case- and stuffed it into my backpack. "I'm sure," I replied, zipping the pack up with freezing fingers. Slinging it over my shoulder, I turned to my fiancée for the first time since I'd gotten up this morning. I'd been avoiding looking at him, afraid my resolve would break if I let his stare lock with mine for any prolonged length of time; but I knew that I was right, and I knew that this was what I had to do.

Loki's red eyes watched me carefully, warily, as I stepped up to him and kissed his cheek once. "I'll be fine," I promised. "Quit worrying. I've faced worse."

He lifted an eyebrow, the gesture making the dark pattern lines on his forehead twist and contort. But he allowed me to pass him, walking through the doorway and into the next room. There was a steady portal in the room, one that could be locked from either side on either planet, to be used until the Asgardians got their Bifrost up and running again; and until Jotunheim got its own.

The portal was currently locked, but I knew that Stark would be opening it soon; I did a quick double-check to make sure I had everything as I waited. I moved a pack of gum out of my bag and into my pocket, just in case; it was easier when the stuff was on hand.

"In my very thoughts," Loki said quietly. "And you are still a puzzle, Frost."

"Ah!" I pointed my finger at him, brown eyes dancing playfully. "Nope. No more calling me 'Frost'. You gotta get outta that habit while you can: the last name'll be changing soon enough." I wiggled the fingers of my left hand, letting the simple silver band on my ring finger catch the weary light that reflected through the ice.

Loki did not fall for the distraction. I hadn't entirely thought that he would. Almost as though I had not spoken, he continued, "I'm not sure why you still feel that you must do this." His eyebrows furrowed. "It is not as though it's necessary. Your… 'employment opportunities' are hardly limited: on _any_ of our worlds."

I liked the way he said that. 'Any'. Not 'both'. He may have accepted Jotunheim as his home world, may even be ruling the planet of the Frost Giants as its king… But in so many ways, he still viewed Asgard as his 'home'. Then again, he'd only been king for a week. It would take some time.

I turned my attention back to his words. Swiveling my body away from the portal, turning on my foot to him, I looked up at him. "Humor me?"

A frown tugged at the corner of his lips. I rolled my eyes. "Come on, it's just college. I've been there a thousand times before."

"Aye," Loki agreed softly, taking my arm in his… He pushed something over my fingertips, pulling it up my bare arm (I was wearing a t-shirt despite the cold, as it would be much warmer on Earth). I looked down; the elbow-length, fingerless black glove that I'd set aside with the rest of my outfit this morning now fit on my hand, covering the scars on the inside of my forearm. Loki pushed it higher up on my arm, making certain that the letters of his name were entirely hidden by the cloth. His red eyes looked down at me with a mixture of concern and apathy. "But never like this."

I flushed, my cheeks turning pink. It was a stupid mistake. A rookie move. I should've been smarter than that. But I forced my eyes up to his, forced myself to meet his gaze, sternly and defiantly. He might have been the king of Jotunheim, but I was still an Earth girl all the way; and I did what I wanted. " _I will be fine."_ I repeated, emphasizing each word. I tugged the glove up higher, though it was unnecessary. "Honestly. I can handle myself."

He did not look entirely convinced, but he let me turn away again. "And if you have an… 'episode'?" He asked. I concealed a wince. I'd been having 'episodes' quite frequently, of late. Times when I just… lost it. Where I stared into space, stared at nothing. Sometimes I'd scream. Sometimes I'd run. But most of the time, I'd just sit there and stare, and nothing that anyone said would get through to me, nothing that anyone would do… unless they came up behind me, or tried to touch me. Then someone might lose a limb or two.

But I'd been tortured for four months; I think I'm allowed to have a psycho moment from time to time.

"Then I should leave the classroom and put my headphones on until it goes away," I recited. "And if anyone bugs me about it, I should hide out in the bathroom instead."

"And if you can't leave?"

It was a fair enough question. Most of the time, I couldn't even move.

"Then you'll be in my head, and you'll come get me: or send one of the Avengers to do it instead." I again recited, letter for letter. Turning to him, I smirked. "Okay, mother?"

He scowled. I chuckled quietly, but put a more serious undertone in my voice as I stepped towards him, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. "Loki, it's the first college semester since you took over." I was sure to be very, very delicate about the way I said that. Him 'taking over' was still a very touchy issue. No one had been happy when Loki was King of Earth for those four months, least of all Loki himself. He hadn't changed much of the planet while he was there, spending a majority of his time locked up in Stark Tower, but it was still a sore spot for everyone. And while he was now trying to move past that, even accepting his role as a King on another world, and trying to do it better this time… It was still a rough patch. "Everyone's bound to be a little shell shocked," I went on. "I'm not going to be the only person in the place with a few hiccups in their psychology, all right?" I looked him in the eye. "And I'm sure the teachers will understand: they went through it, too."

As worry continued to tug his lips downwards and make creases in his forehead, I took his collar in both hands carefully. "Everything will be okay," I reassured him again. "I just…" I sighed quietly, looking away from his face at last, running my hand down his chest, over to his arm, down to his hand, and taking his blue hand into my own. Tracing patterns into his palm, I said, "I know that I'm never going to live anything like a normal human life. But… I'd like to live a little bit of one. I want to have somewhere to go to when I need to get away from the craziness of my… other life. When I need to get away from the stress of… well, ruling." I looked up at him. We had not been engaged for long and planned to be engaged for far longer, before we got married… but that didn't stop the fact that, someday, I'd be the queen of Jotunheim. The old me- the more _human_ me- could never have done it. Could never have lived with the pressure. But the me that I was now… well, let's just say that I was used to playing games with worlds.

But it was still nice to remember, every once in a while, that I was still human: and not just the 'Shadowslayer.'

The name shivered through me, and I pushed it aside, looking to Loki. "I can handle this," I said, as resolutely as I could manage. "And quite frankly, there's not a lot you can do to stop me."

This time, both of his eyebrows went up. His eyes danced, as they sometimes did when I outright challenged him like this. "There's quite a great deal that I could do," he corrected me, gripping my chin in his thumb and forefinger firmly. The bruises that had run along my jaw line a month ago had healed by now, however, so it didn't hurt in the slightest. "If you forced my hand." His tone gained a shade of an ominous threat that I didn't listen to, because it was a lie and we both knew it.

I smiled at him slyly. "Then it seems _my_ hand would also have to be forced," I said, leaning forwards abruptly, closer to him, pressing my lips against his. He was, briefly, caught off guard; but when he sorted his thoughts together again, he found that he didn't care enough, anyway. His arms wrapped around me, holding me in place, and he leaned down to accommodate our height difference. After a moment, we broke apart, and I rested my head on his chest, sighing with a mixture of happiness and melancholy.

Loki ran his fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my face. "There is always next semester," he reminded me quietly.

He was right. And for a moment, I was tempted to just say 'screw it', turn around, and stay on this world of ice with my Frost Giant fiancée for a few more months, forgetting about my home entirely.

Instead, however, I pulled myself out of his arms, shaking my head. "No. If I don't go now, I won't be able to force myself to go later. It's gotta be now."

There was a knock on the doors. Loki and I turned as one, and he glanced to me before letting me slip out of his arms and turning towards the door, opening it to reveal Steprin. The Giant was tall, even for a Giant, so that even on one knee as he currently was, he looked imposing. After the battle with Fraye, which had killed the former Captain of the King's Guard, Steprin had accepted the position as a tenuous replacement until someone better could be found. We hadn't found one better yet, and I knew we never would.

"My apologies, your majesty," Steprin said, not raising his eyes from the ground. "But you are needed at the west perimeter of the palace."

Loki knew that Steprin wasn't one to go and fetch the king every time there was a minor spat, so urgency immediately began to buzz through his veins. Still, he shot one final, worried look in my direction.

"Frost…?" he asked quietly.

"Go," I prodded, waving him off with one hand. "You're needed."

He swallowed, but nodded and turned back to Steprin. His voice immediately falling into a more authoritative tone, he ordered the other Giant, "Show me."

Steprin stood and led his king out of the room as I watched. Still, as he left, Loki's voice whispered in my mind, _Be careful._

 _Always am,_ I chimed in cheerily. I turned back to the portal, which had shimmered into a different color with no sound; and nothing more than a hint of light to show that it had done so. I took a deep breath, tightening the straps of my backpack on my shoulders until they started to cut into my skin.

Without giving myself too long to think it over, nor to begin doubting myself, I stepped inside.

When I emerged on Earth, feeling a little dizzy, Tony locked the portal. I rubbed my head, trying to clear away the blinding pain that always shot behind my eyes whenever I went through the portal. As with most magic/science blends, it still had a lot of kinks.

Tony slouched to the side, taking me in. But he didn't say anything. He usually didn't these days. It had been three weeks since Loki had proposed to me, and Stark still refused to talk to either of us, unless it was for absolute emergencies. Thankfully, we'd managed to avoid those for a while. Which, considering who we were talking about, was actually pretty impressive.

Banner was also waiting on the other side. He beamed at me as I crossed the room, sweeping me into a swift hug. "Hey, Natalie," he greeted me. "Been a while."

Though I'd been popping by Stark Tower to take care of a few human problems now and then, it _had_ been about a week since the last time I'd seen him-or any of my fellow Avengers- long enough for us to properly talk. In fact, most of the Avengers were pretty much dispersed at the moment: the last time we'd all been together in one place had been Loki's coronation.

It had been the single proudest moment of my life, watching that crown being lowered onto Loki's head. I'd been given a seat of honor nearby, as had all of my teammates, Odin, and any worlds leaders who had attended. We were close enough to see the expression on Loki's face, but that didn't mean that any of us could comprehend it. Even I would have been baffled by it, if I wasn't in his head at all times, knowing precisely what he was feeling: fear, ecstasy, determination, desperation to prove himself worthy of this crown… the poor guy had been overwhelmed. But I had been there, in the sidelines, beaming away; and reassuring him that he could, indeed, do this. That he had nothing to worry about. That he would be a great king.

I pushed the memory aside as I grinned at Bruce, shrugging. "Well, come and visit sometime," I told him. "Just… wear a jacket."

He snorted, then changed the subject. "So, first day of school?"

"Yup," I answered, tightening the straps of my backpack again.

"You nervous?"

I gave him a look, putting one hand on my hip. "Brucey, dear, I faced off with the Daughter of Darkness herself. Going into a building full of rowdy college kids that have no powers, no abilities, and are most certainly _not_ from another planet? I'm not nervous." I shuddered theatrically. "I'm downright terrified."

Bruce barked out a laugh. Even Tony cracked the tiniest of smiles, though he turned away quickly so I couldn't see it. To be honest, I thought he was really overreacting about this whole 'marriage' thing. The Avengers had taken the announcement of my engagement with varying degrees of grace: Tony with the least and, of course, Banner with the most. Which was a very, _very_ good thing; we had all worried about what would have happened if our resident Hulk-Man had taken things _badly._

Clint had been okay with it, even if he had mentioned that we were moving a little… _quickly._ (Seeing as Loki and I had only been an official 'couple' for about a week beforehand.) Natasha hadn't really seemed to have an opinion, though I knew she did and simply didn't voice it. Thor had been… overjoyed, grinning from ear to ear for almost three days straight. Tony, of course, was giving me the silent treatment, Bruce had congratulated me quietly, and Steve…

Well, Steve.

The thought of the Soldier's reaction prickled down my fingertips, and I was forced to push it aside. But it was in my brain and it wouldn't budge. Steve had been fairly open, all things considered, and he'd smiled stiffly at us both, giving us quiet congratulations… but he'd been giving us the cold shoulder almost as badly as Stark ever since. Granted, he was currently on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D., helping to rebuild the world again after Loki's attack… but he still had a _few_ means of communication that he didn't seem entirely keen on using.

I fought a sigh- and my growing feelings of resentment and rejection- as I said goodbye to Banner and Stark and left the Tower. Despite the fact that I never used to see the other Avengers all too frequently even in the old days (the Tower _was_ a fairly large place, after all) it still felt oddly… empty, with only the science boys inside of it. But the spies and the Soldier were out on various cleanup missions, Thor was tending to his princely duties on Asgard, Loki was acting as King in Jotunheim… heck, even _I_ had moved out. I probably should have felt worse for Bruce and Tony than I did for myself; after all those months of having everyone there at all times, the Tower must have seen like an even larger place than ever. Bigger and emptier.

I sighed and headed to the black motorcycle that I still kept in Tony's garage: _my_ bike, the 'Frost-Cycle.' I wondered vaguely if I would change the name once I got married…. And decided against it. 'Laufeyson-Cycle' just didn't have the same ring to it.

I paused for a moment before kicking the stand off the ground and revving the engine. 'Once I got married'. It sounded so clinical, so easy, so simple and sterile. It wasn't.

I drove out into the street, the helmet on my head and the leather jacket wrapped around me keeping out the worst of the wind; but the black leather made me bake in the sunlight. It wasn't weather I was used to anymore, and it made me feel overheated and stuffy. But that wasn't the only reason I felt choked, I knew.

I loved Loki. I knew I'd love him forever. That much wasn't even in question: and heck, if we _did_ fall out of love, it wasn't as though I had any other options _besides_ him. But this was still moving _very quickly_ and, though I knew the reasons, and though I knew that we were likely going to be engaged for a long time beforehand, I still felt… stifled. I could practically feel a collar tightening around my neck as the days ticked onwards. I didn't resent Loki for it, not in the slightest, and I didn't feel like he'd 'tie me down' or anything… In fact, I had always wanted to get married. Always wanted a husband and kids and the whole deal. I was a bit of a family-oriented person, after all.

But the fact stood that the Loki that I'd fallen in love with and the Loki who'd fallen in love with me in return were two entirely different people. And while it was a definite improvement for the better (after all, _this_ one wouldn't sentence me to be tortured by our worst nightmare for the rest of my life), it was still a change. And I wanted… _time._ I just wanted time to understand him, to know him better…

I snorted to myself as I turned a corner, keeping my focus on the road. I knew the man's every secret, knew every thought that ever went through his mind.

And I still wanted to know him better?

 _You're thinking too much again, Natalie,_ I told myself, as I made it to my old college campus and pulled into the parking lot. There was a place to chain my bike, and I did so, pulling my jacket off and tucking it into my backpack. How did other humans _stand_ this _heat?_ How did I used to feel… _comfortable_ here?

 _When did I start to hate summer so much?_ I queried silently of no one as I checked the schedule that I'd printed a few days back. I'd gotten here early, so that I could explore the campus, but I'd been here before; and all of the room numbers were familiar to me. Still, just to be on the safe side, I started walking towards where my first class would be. I didn't have too many classes- only about three- and they would only be on a few days of the week. Besides, if things got too hectic, they could always be dropped. I just hoped I could get through one semester without another world-ending catastrophe. Considering my luck, it wasn't likely.

 _No,_ I ordered firmly, shoving that thought aside. _Positive thinking. I'm going to make it. I'm going to get a freaking degree,_ _ **earn**_ _that damn job that S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me, and end up as a Queen to boot._ My tense stance relaxed as, wryly, my thoughts continued, _Not that I didn't earn that job at S.H.I.E.L.D. already…_

"Natalie!" A voice called from my left; I didn't immediately jump five feet into the air and pull out a knife, which was a good sign. Another good sign was the fact that I didn't have my knife with me in the first place. I mean, it wouldn't have been smart to carry that around everywhere, but I still felt extraordinarily uncomfortable without it. But I had my force field. That was stronger than any blade. It was irrational to trust the knife over that.

But it had still _helped._

I turned to the voice. A person waved me down from a short distance away; I smiled to myself, releasing a breath I hadn't realized that I was holding, as I saw the blonde hair and overloud jewelry of one of my old school friends: Jade.

I waved back, walking up to her as she sped-walked towards me. She hugged me quickly, briefly, smiling at me as she held me out at arm's length. "It's so good to see you again! I thought for sure you wouldn't show this semester!"

Well, at least she hadn't thought that I was dead, like Benny had. That was an improvement.

"I mean, Ben told us that you weren't dead," she continued.

Ah.

"But he said you looked like you'd been through some serious crap during Loki's reign." Her features rearranged into a look of pity. It burned, for some reason. I wasn't used to people pitying me anymore: the only people who still 'pitied' me for the stuff I'd been through were my parents. The Avengers didn't pity me: they didn't dare. And those who'd been tortured themselves just saw me as another comrade in arms. S.H.I.E.L.D. certainly didn't pity me: they were still pissed that I'd put the needs of the nine realms over the needs of my own planet. Loki didn't pity me: he just grew ever more resolved that it would never happen again. And the other Jotuns and Asgardians respected me far too much to _pity_ me.

I brushed this aside and thought on Jade's words as opposed to her expression. So Benny had spoken about how I looked… but said nothing about the scars that I'd accidentally shown to him. That was something.

"And Adrian said he's not coming back for a while, so I pretty much figured you'd do the same," Jade was still babbling, an unceasing river of words that had no end and no way to dam the flow. They just carried on and on forever, until they reached some ocean far away, where all words collected together and flooded the world. "'Cause he didn't even go through all that much as everyone else- didn't lose any family or friends, other than thinking that _you_ were a goner for a while, didn't fight in the revolution, just played along until Loki died-" She didn't notice my wince as she said this, carrying on freely, "And he's barely left the house since! He's going to a shrink and everything!"

The almost deprecating way she said that made my hand shift to my hip, my weight to my right foot. "S'nothing wrong with that," I said evenly. She blinked, seeming surprised that I'd spoken-she was probably even surprised that I was still here- and I laced my next words with the barest trace of poison. "People handle things in different ways: some better than others." Shifting my weight to the other foot and lifting an eyebrow, I added, "And aren't _you_ seeing a shrink, too?"

"Well, yeah, but keep it on the down low," she said, stage-whispering and giving me a wink. I rolled my eyes. Jade, keeping secrets. _That_ was a laugh. Chances were, half the school would know about her visits to a psychiatrist by the end of the day. I'd long ago stopped trusting her with any secrets that I might have.

"You're an idiot, Jade," I said, but I put enough mock-exasperation in the words to sound like I was kidding. I think I was. I couldn't be certain, though. She chuckled quietly.

"Oh, no offense to your future profession, Nat," she said airily, making the hackles on the back of my neck rise up and my teeth grit together. Only two people called me 'Nat': and Jade was _not_ one of them.

"-Alie," I added. "Nat- _alie._ "

"Right," She said, waving her hand. "No offense to your future profession, _Natalie,_ but…" she hesitated. For the first time that day, her words seemed… genuine. Deeper than her usual shallow gossip. "I dunno, I guess it just feels… like I'm being weak, getting someone else to help with _my_ problems," she smiled sheepishly. "You know?" she shrugged. "Plus. I don't like people poking around in my head, you know?"

"You totally shouldn't be friends with me, then," I warned her. "Poking in heads is a hobby of mine."

She sighed theatrically. "Yes, well, that's the price I pay for having friends." She gave me a swift smile and slugged my shoulder. "Can I see your schedule?"

I showed it to her. We didn't have any of the same classes, but we did have a few times when we both were free at the same time, but didn't really have enough time to go anywhere off campus; so we could hang out together for a while, if so inclined. Her first one started in a while, so I walked her to the door, said a quick goodbye, and went back on my way. Already, the conversation had almost exhausted me. But I kept my spine straight, slogging onwards determinately. I was _not_ going to let _one day_ of hanging out with _norms_ stress me out.

Still, I didn't think I could face any more 'old friends' before I went to my first morning class, so I walked over to it and, though I was still more than half an hour early, I sat down next to the wall and stuck in my very obvious, very vividly colored headphones, gnawing on some beef jerky as I did so. My stomach growled, though I'd already had a huge breakfast before I'd come here. I was always hungry these days; hence the beef jerky, and the gum in my pocket. A little trick I learned from the Black Widow to keep away the worst of the hunger.

I kept my back to the wall, so that no one could sneak up on me. It would do no one any good to try and surprise me. Still, I kept my eyes open, just in case someone tried; and a while later, when the professor made her way to the classroom, I pulled the headphones out and sat inside, waiting for the class to begin, twiddling my thumbs. Since I was one of the few people who'd arrived so extraordinarily early, I had my choice of seats. I was torn between the one by the door-a close exit was a good advantage, but I didn't like having it behind me, where I couldn't see who entered right away- and the one that was tucked into the back corner of the room- easier to defend, more likely, but I could be quite literally cornered if it came to that. I chose the corner desk; if worse came to worst, I'd make my own exit. I could do that these days.

Over the next fifteen minutes, the classroom filled up fairly quickly; and by the time it started, there were only one or two stragglers. I covertly stuck a piece of gum in my mouth as my stomach started to complain again, though I knew that part of the wrenching pains in my gut was just from nerves.

But, for all of my anxiety, the class passed as the first day always did; syllabus handed out, expectations raised, a few indications given on the professor's teaching style. I could tell immediately that I would never overtly _like_ this teacher; she ran a very strict classroom, with very little tolerance for deviance. I settled back and resigned myself to a long and tiring battle with this particular professor: I mean, after all, I had the Norse god of Mischief in my brain. 'Deviance'? That was my middle name.

Thankfully, this wasn't my psychology class, but rather, my foreign language: Danish. I'd been trying to learn for a few years now, but with all of the interference from first Loki, then Fraye… well, it got complicated. I was taking most of my General Ed classes online, back at home (though I mostly worked on them at the Tower; they didn't exactly have great wifi on Jotunheim), and saved the more 'fun' classes- or at least, the stuff I actually _wanted_ to learn- for on campus.

"Excuse me?"

I looked up from the notes I'd been scribbling (and the little doodles I'd been scribbling in the side of the page) to the professor, who was standing close by and watching me with beady eyes. I carefully maneuvered my arm to cover the doodles on the page. "Yes, you," the professor said, pointing at me. I'd known she was talking to me: her stare was directly on me. She had this look on her face: I'd call it an eagle eye, but there was nothing quite so noble about it, and it was too close to another good friend of mine, who could run circles around this woman. "What's your name?" She asked. Because it was the first day of school and she wouldn't know.

I sighed, knowing from her tone that, on the first day, I was already in trouble. I wondered what I did but decided that, whatever it was, it was giving me a good opportunity to introduce myself to her. She'd have my name memorized soon enough, no matter _how_ many students she taught. Tucking my gum in between my teeth and my cheek, I answered, "Natalie Frost."

"Well, Miss Frost," she said primly. I arched an eyebrow before she could go on: was there or was there not a ring on my finger? I could very well be a 'Missus' for all she knew. But she didn't seem to notice the gesture, carrying on through her words. "I would thank you _not_ to chew gum in my classroom. It's very distracting."

What was I, five? This wasn't grade school. And I knew that I hadn't been chewing with my mouth open or anything; I'd made certain of that. Chewing gum discreetly was a talent of mine these days; so she must have been on the lookout, trying to find some way to assert her own supremacy.

I slouched back in my chair; well, fair enough, it was her classroom, she was allowed. I pulled the gum packet out of my pocket and handed it to her coolly, wordlessly. She seemed startled by the action-and the fact that I didn't just spit out what gum I had- but I made no move to throw away the gum I was chewing. Because, of course, I had prepared for this.

She took the gum packet and nodded once, turning away… I stopped her by saying, "You might want to look at the label."

The label that I'd put on it earlier this week, and on all of the gum packs that I'd intended to take the school. The label that read 'Nicorette' across the entirety of the little paper packaging, with all of the proper logos and nutrition facts and all of it.

I beamed at her. "I think it would be much more distracting if I left the room every fifteen minutes for a cigarette, and came back smelling like an ashtray. Wouldn't you?"

She looked at me, her eyes very cold. I looked back, still smiling. It was almost cute, watching this little norm trying to be intimidating. Like watching my kitty cat trying to maul my toe. And the way she was trying to turn her features to ice; this human wouldn't have known _anything_ about ice. If she had, I would have seen it on her long ago. She handed the packet back to me.

"Very well," She said, stiff and rigid. "But keep it quiet," she ordered, as though I hadn't already been silent before she'd said anything. Holding it between my index and middle finger, I tapped the packet to my forehead and used it to salute her before I tucked it back into my pocket. She glanced around the room, glaring at everyone. A few people had been snickering before she turned. "Anyone else trying to quit?" She demanded.

A few hands went up. She nodded, taking note of them, I was certain. "Everyone else, there will be no gum in this class. Clear enough?"

Sweeping nods throughout the class. The professor went back to the front of the class. A few moments later, as she continued with her lecture on the rules of the classroom, the expectations she set for anyone who wanted a decent grade, and on the many ways you could get yourself kicked out, someone pushed a piece of paper onto my desk. The 'desks' were actually tables, seating about two people to each, and the person beside me slid a note over to me.

I flipped it open casually but secretively, knowing that the professor was keeping her eye on me. It wasn't so difficult; secrecy and espionage weren't new to me. The note inside was written in simple, large-but-neat handwriting. I made a few quick notes about it- a lot could be said from someone's handwriting- and stored them away in my head before I actually _read_ the thing.

 _You've never smoked, have you?_

I glanced to the note-passer. It was a woman, maybe a year or so older than me, with a kind face but sharp eyes, and long, curly, red-brown hair that could get caught in all manner of things if she was ever in a fight. It was the poofy kind of curly, sticking up at all sides of her head, the curls small and tight. She wore a few silver bands on her wrist and her ears were pierced, her face done up with minimal makeup, but a coating of deep, orangy-red lip gloss that actually looked pretty good on her. I grinned and scribbled out, _Once, back in high school. I was a very troubled child._

I pushed the note back to her. Yeah, we were probably too old to be passing notes; but with the teacher's sharp eyes on us, talking was definitely out. And I couldn't exactly text her without having her number. Besides, she didn't look like she cared so much if she seemed juvenile or not. _Nice excuse, though,_ the note read when she pushed it back a moment later. _I'll have to use it sometime._

I thought back to when the Teacher had asked those who were quitting to raise their hands. She'd been one of them; I remembered because I'd only barely managed to stop the flinch at the sudden movement in the corner of my eye. She thought on her feet, at least. _I'm Natalie. You?_

 _Tiff._

 _Short for 'Tiffany?'_

 _Short for Tiff._

 _Nice to meet you, Tiff._

 _And you, Natalie._

She extended her hand to me, and we shook quickly, before the professor could turn to us again. We were forced to crumple the note a few moments later in order to keep the professor from catching us, and when class ended, I tore the 'evidence' into shreds and tossed it in a trash can outside of that classroom. I was being overly paranoid, I knew, but hey, I was a cautious person by nature these days. Tiff smiled at me when we left the room together.

"See ya' round," she said, before turning away. I had a feeling that I'd like her. But I didn't know enough to be certain yet.

Besides, I thought, readjusting my backpack. She was human. She was just another mortal. If it came down to it, she'd break too easily.

Best not to get too attached.

The majority of the day passed without any more noteworthy incidents; though I spent almost every second being highly and intensely aware of everything that was going on-my surroundings, everything the professors said, the students in the classes with me- a majority of that information was deleted within an hour after it had passed. It wasn't relevant, wasn't necessary.

I made it through the next two classes without losing my mind, though my mind was still wracked with tension, despite the dull tedium of day-to-day college life. I didn't meet up with my friends between classes, choosing instead to keep my headphones in my ears and simply stare into nothing. It helped, sometimes, to stare into space when I didn't _need_ to stare into space, to let my mind wander and blank out when it wasn't entirely necessary. It gave my brain a time out before my brain forced one onto me.

I was leaving my last class and heading to the Frost-Cycle when Benny found me.

"Natalie!" I heard his voice call to me, and recognized that it was him long before I turned. It was something I'd been expecting all day, waiting in dread-filled anticipation. Sighing heavily and setting my leather jacket-which I had been about to sling over myself- down on the motorcycle that was just a footstep or two away, I turned around and smiled at him.

"Hey, Benny," I said, as he jogged up next to me, pulling himself to a halt. "What's up?"

He looked at me. His eyes were wide. "What's up?" he demanded. He wasn't out of breath in the slightest, though I'd suspected that he'd been running to catch up to me for a while. But then, he'd had a lot of practice with running. "Are you kidding me right now, Natalie?"

I battled a sigh as he went on, "I mean… you pretty much show up at my house, let me know you're alive, say a few freaky things about how people can change in four months and show off those _scars-_ "

My eyes narrowed as he pointed at my singularly-gloved hand.

"And now you ask _what's up?"_ he demanded.

Hooking my thumb in my backpack strap and leaning my other hand against the Frost-Cycle, I answered, "Pretty much, yes."

He ogled for a moment. Then, quickly, he shook his head, as though he could forcibly dislodge the thought from his brain if he just rattled it around a bit. "But… Natalie… what… what _happened_ to you?"

I bristled. Immediately, a vast majority of whatever energy I had left went into keeping myself calm. Benny was just Benny. He wasn't saying this to be cruel, wasn't trying to dig up the past or poke into dark secrets. He was just doing so unintentionally, that was all.

I struggled for an excuse. My heart twisted as I realized that I had one- and a very good one at that- and that I just didn't _like_ it. But it was a story that would fit along with the one that S.H.I.E.L.D. had fed to the world; and if I didn't follow along with that, well… there could be mayhem. I'd rather have to lie to Benny then have to drag him into my world, kicking and screaming, with no means to protect himself. I'd rather have him clueless than dead.

Resigning myself to the lie, and making my voice as snarky as possible, I gave my once-crush a look. "Well, gee, Benny," I said sardonically, then began ticking things off on my fingers. "I worked for the government. Loki destroyed said government and threw me in prison. Four months later, he's dead and now I have his _name_ carved into my arm. What the _hell_ do you _think_ happened?"

Even as I said the words, with all of my bolstered confidence and undeniable acid, they made my entire body feel bitter and frail. Like they were eating away at me from the inside. It was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s worst lies, that Loki was dead, when we all knew that he was a _hero._ But apparently, no one thought that the earth could believe in something so far-fetched as someone 'changing', or feeling 'regret'. What a preposterous notion.

Benjamin winced. "So… it _was_ him?" he asked quietly. "Loki… he…" he lowered his voice, as though there was anyone around to hear. "He _tortured_ you?" the word 'tortured' was almost a squeak.

I looked away and didn't respond. No matter how much I was going along with the lie, I couldn't bring myself to actually _say_ as much, to actually _affirm_ his statement. I didn't have to. Benjamin ran his hand through his hair, pulling it back from his forehead as he cursed in a soft breath.

"Are you… are you okay?" he asked, then backtracked quickly at the look I gave him. "Right, stupid question, of course not, but… damn, Natalie. That's… that's some hardcore shit."

"Yah _think_?"

He looked to me. Again, there was pity in a friend's eyes, and again, it burned. I was Natalie Frost, the Shadowslayer, the future Queen of Jotunheim. I was not _pitied._ "Do you… I mean, do you need to _talk_ about it?"

"I can talk to my fiancée," I replied acerbically. He flinched.

"Come on, Natalie. Don't snap my head off here, I'm just… just trying to be your friend. I don't know what you want me to do, here."

I chewed on the inside of my lip as I thought that over. He was right. I was being cruel. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh that still tasted like mint- seeing as I'd chewed about three or four packs of gum this morning alone- I half raised my hands. "You're right, you're right… I'm sorry." I looked away. "I just… really don't want to talk about it. I just want to let the past be the past, y'know? And… it's really hard to do that if other people know about it."

He nodded slowly, still with that stinging sympathy in his eyes. "Yeah… okay, I get that. But…" he rested a hand on my shoulder. "I'm here if you need to talk. If you don't, fine, I'll never say another word about it. But if you do… I'm here."

I smiled weakly at him. "Thanks, Benny."

He nodded once, pulling his hand away. There was a beat of silence that was intensely awkward before he changed the subject swiftly, though not altogether smoothly. "Congrats, by the way," he said, gesturing to my left hand. "I guess… well, you said he's your fiancée, now, so…"

Crap. That was a really bad way of announcing the big news. I flushed a bright pink, lifting the ring up to eye level. "Yeah, he proposed a few weeks ago," I agreed.

"Well, I'm happy for you," he said, and he managed to keep a vast majority of the wistfulness out of his tone. Benny had once asked me out, after all; and, as far as he knew, if he'd asked me out a few days sooner, then maybe things could have gone a lot differently. But he was still casual, laid-back Benny; and he was letting things go.

There was another awkwardly silent moment. Finally, he glanced at his phone, checking the time. "Well, I've gotta go," he said, then turned to me. "I guess I'll see you around?"

"Sure thing," I answered, giving him a swift hug. I couldn't turn away fast enough, though I forced myself to do so at a more leisurely pace, and to put on my jacket with methodical slowness. Then I pulled on my helmet, sat on the bike, revved the engine, and got the heck outta Dodge.

It was only about two o'clock by now, and there were still a few things I wanted to take care of before I went back 'home', so I didn't head straight for the Tower. First thing was first: I drove up to my parents' house, parked the bike in the driveway, and was about to knock on the door when I saw the note half-tucked into the welcome mat. It was, amazingly, encoded; but my parents had taught me this particular code, a simple number that was easily cracked if one had time. But they had other, more secure ones; ones that they didn't teach me, well aware that Loki would know if I did. They'd been the leaders of the revolution against him for far too long to trust him with that kind of secret.

I was torn about this display of my parents' paranoia. Part of me identified with it whole-heartedly, and made me feel more connected to them; like we really _were_ a family. But the other part of me despaired at the loss of the people they once were, when they could see the world as a good, safe place.

I decoded the note in my head.

 _Back soon, your father had a doctor's appointment. Love you. –Mom._

I rolled my eyes and fished my keys out of my backpack, unlocking the front door and walking inside. I was immediately assaulted by a barrage of fur that jumped up on top of me and did everything within its power to push me to the ground.

"Woah! Chill _out,_ Jekyll!" I said, laughing, pulling the dog's paws off of me and setting him down on the ground. His tail wagged ferociously, and as I knelt down to his eye level, he quickly got to work on licking every inch of my face. I closed my eyes and screwed up my features, waiting him out. It was gross, but he was family. After a moment, I pulled away so that I could bury my face in his fur.

"Yeah, I missed you, too, fluff ball," I said. My parents had been taking care of Jekyll and Hyde for me since I'd moved to Jotunheim. A few allowances had been made to accommodate the king's fragile human, but it would take a while before something could be set up to help the fragile human's even more fragile pets to survive the cold winter world.

Hyde's reception was not so warm. The kitten had grown a little bigger in the three weeks since I'd gotten her, but not by a lot. Caramel-amber eyes narrowed into slits, she watched me from a few feet away for a moment, then returned her attention to licking her white left paw. I smiled at the kitten; at the very least, she was looking healthier these days. No longer so thin and sickly, she was still downright adorable; but her time on the streets had left her more hardened inside than a few good meals could fix.

I was still on my knees, with Jekyll prancing around me, and so I crawled over the few steps towards the kitten, scratching her behind the ears carefully. She had a few dots of white in the fur behind her ears, something I hadn't noticed until almost a week ago, but now found to be the cutest freaking thing in the whole freaking world. She allowed me to show affection only after she had sniffed my hand, rubbed her cheeks against my fingertips, and returned to her paw-washing. I kissed her quickly on the top of the head once she began to purr. Jekyll butted his big, cold nose in between my eyes, trying to get my attention back on him.

Laughing to myself, I stood, washed my face off, and then headed to the kitchen. There was a sandwich sitting on the table beneath a napkin, which sent a rush of nostalgia through me. My mom used to always have something for me after school, when I lived with her, even after I started going to college. She couldn't cook worth a damn, but the occasional sandwich, she managed. At the time, I'd been so keen on moving out that I barely noticed this. Now… well, I found myself missing my mother sometimes.

Not that I'd ever move back. I shuddered. That idea was a horror in and of itself.

I fed the animals, then ate as well, checking out the window once I was finished to see if my parents were back yet. They weren't, so I pulled my cell phone out of my pack and took care of my other item of business for the day.

The number was a direct line given only for emergencies or VIPs. I'd say I was definitely in the latter category. There were two rings before a curt voice answered, "What is it, Frost?"

I smiled, heading to the couch in the living room, plopping down and kicking my feet up. "Satisfied with the information you got today, Fury?" I asked in what was almost a coo. Hyde crawled up my leg and settled into her usual position on my lap. She did this not out of affection, but the simple need to keep warm; and she frequently reminded me of this fact by stretching out and sticking her butt in my face. She liked to use me as a piece of furniture; and she was small enough that I didn't mind. Jekyll hopped up on the couch next to us, and Hyde-slitting one eye open- batted him reflexively with sheathed claws.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Fury answered brusquely.

"No?" I asked, my voice bright and peppy. "So that blonde girl with the birthmark on her wrist, the one who was wearing the blue top today? She wasn't one of yours?" My eyes danced, though it was a performance that Fury wouldn't see. "What about that professor in room 12-B? The brunette? He wasn't yours either, hmm?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that fact," Fury answered, though I could hear the wry, almost-smile in his tone.

"Uh-huh. Tell your agents to ease up a little; I'm sure there are others. But I'm not exactly planning a hostile takeover, here."

"We can't be sure of that anymore."

"I'm still on your payroll, aren't I?"

"Do you honestly think we trust any of the people who are on our payroll?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it." I was silent for a beat, then, because I knew that this was the real reason those agents had been there, I said, "Thanks for looking out for me, Director."

"Behave yourself," was his only response, as though I were a child needing to be told off. And then he hung up. I snickered to myself as I turned the phone off. As exhausting as my interactions with the Avengers, the spies, and other political figures could be, these days, I found them strangely… refreshing, when compared to the dance of a normal, daily social life.

I pulled my engagement ring off, stashing it in my pocket and stroking Hyde with closed eyes, feeling extraordinarily exhausted. It had been a long day; and definitely not the greatest of times to break the news to my parents: which I still hadn't done, three weeks after the proposal. I sighed deeply, then shifted on the couch and placed my head on Jekyll, using him as an overtly fluffy pillow. I was careful in shifting Hyde to my stomach, where she dug her claws into my shirt and hissed until I settled down. Petting her steadily again, I tried to think of when, exactly, the 'right time' would be to tell my parents. Another few months, maybe, so that it looked like we'd been 'together' for a while beforehand? No, I couldn't risk the idea that someone might let something slip, and they'd discover it by themselves. The only thing worse than me being engaged to my parents' worst enemy would be me lying to them about it.

They arrived soon afterwards. My father was chuckling at a joke my mother had made. A few moments later, the latter called out, "Natalie! Are you here yet?"

"In the living room!" I called back, not opening my eyes. Hyde was purring on my stomach, and Jekyll half asleep beneath my head. Combined, the two were a lovely- and incredibly powerful- sedative, and I was having a hard time opening my eyes and appearing awake.

"Oh, there's my girl!" My mom said chirpily as she entered the room, holding her arms out wide. I rolled my eyes and stood, placing Hyde on the couch, and wrapped her in a hug as she hugged me back, kissing me on the forehead. "It's been so _long,_ we never _see_ you anymore!"

My parents had not been at the coronation; so the last time that I'd had an opportunity to talk with them without too much interruption had been a few weeks back. Cameron entered the room a few moments later, and I hugged him quickly, trying to break ribs.

"Hey, mom. Hey, dad." The word 'dad' was no longer the struggle it used to be. Cameron was my father and I loved him. He was family; and all of those terrible things he'd done, he'd been _forced_ to do. It wasn't his fault.

Besides, if I could forgive Loki for handing me over to a psycho, shadow-bitch, I could forgive my dad for saying a few hurtful things.

(And it wasn't as though those things were entirely untrue.)

"How'd the doctor's appointment go?" I asked Cameron. He shrugged.

"Clean bill o'health," he answered. As I smiled slyly, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, so that boyfriend of yours isn't _totally_ worthless. Don't rub it in."

I chuckled quietly, ruffling my dad's hair. The lesions in his brain had gone away and _stayed_ away, after Loki interceded.

"How was school?" my mother asked; the hated question that parents asked every day until you felt like you might puke if you heard those syllables again.

"School," I answered, with the hated response that I'd been using steadily over the years in order to wear her down in the same way. At her sour look, I grinned and waved a hand about. "Ah, it was okay. I saw Benny and Jade; they're doing pretty good." I left out the part about what Benny had seen, what we had said to each other. I didn't find it altogether necessary that they know. I tried to think of more information that I felt comfortable giving. "The classes were all right, the professors aren't half bad… though there's this one…" I grinned, shaking my head. "Woo. We're gonna tango, I can tell you that right now."

"Why?" My mother asked. "What's the problem?"

"She's a bit… over controlling," I answered. "Not really what you'd call 'flexible.'"

 _And she's way too freaking_ _ **normal,**_ I thought, somewhere in the privacy of my own skull, where my parents could not hear it. Being mostly 'normal' themselves, they wouldn't understand that it wasn't a slight against humanity; just a laugh at the fact that someone like that could try so desperately hard to have total power over everyone they had in their grasp. That she was so _human_ that she still thought she had to have everything under her constant control. I knew what real 'power' was, I stood against it all the time, I stood _beside_ it all the time, and if she knew what it did to a person to have that kind of control, that kind of raw _power,_ she would shun it forever. But some people just didn't learn.

Besides, by the time you learned to shun power, it was way too late. Either you needed it to survive or you became addicted to it, but either way you were entirely under its control. I was pretty sure that I both needed and was addicted to it, so I was doubly screwed.

"What a shame," my mother mused quietly.

My parents probed me for every detail of my life that had occurred while I was gone, while I asked them a few questions of my own… but eventually, a few hours later, I told them that I should be getting back; and, kissing them both goodbye, and giving Jekyll and Hyde a hug for the road, I got the Frost-Cycle again and headed towards Stark Tower.

I made sure to pass my old house on the way. My father's old place that he'd passed to me, it had burnt to the ground during Loki's rule, and was being rebuilt now. It was odd, how little I mourned the place. Loki had saved my sketchbooks, but everything that was really of 'value' to me had been in the Tower at the time. Not that I valued a lot these days; and my few possessions were relatively sparse. My life had become very… Spartan.

I drove back to the Tower. Banner was there to 'unlock' the portal for me this time, and Loki, on the other side, sent someone to unlock it from that end once I informed him that I was entering the Tower. Stark was nowhere to be seen and was, apparently, still brooding.

I slid my engagement ring back onto my finger just as I stepped through, back to the cold realm of Jotunheim.

* * *

Loki wasn't there to meet me, but I hadn't expected him to be. He was in the middle of something important, his kingly duties, and so I merely wandered the palace alone. I went to our quarters and changed clothes swiftly, into the warmer garments I needed to survive on Jotunheim. But, regardless of this feature which further separated me from the Frost Giants, I still held my head high and acted as though I had every reason and right to be wherever I was; and, in truth, I _did._

It had been the strangest thing, to learn that the Jotuns were entirely unsurprised by the fact that Loki and I were engaged. That it had, in fact, been assumed that this was the case. Half of the reason Loki had proposed was so that he could be certain that no one would try and split us apart; but, as it turned out, no one wanted to. They'd known that Loki and I were a package deal; and there had been many who had boldly claimed before crowds of their peers that they would be proud to serve under the Shadowslayers, regardless of whether or not one of them was human.

But there were others who were _not_ so enthusiastic about our reign. Namely, a member of the council that had been convened to appoint the new king. I still didn't know his name (which really showed how seriously I took him), but practically the instant I'd walked onto Jotunheim, he'd greeted me with a very… different welcome.

It had been after the coronation, after Loki's announcement of our eventual marriage. There was a feast to celebrate the coronation, and everyone had been in attendance; even Thor and the Avengers. The giant in question had approached me with serious red eyes and told me, quite flatly, "I respect the King. I respect that you are the Shadowslayer. And if you were to wed, you would be the Queen, and I would serve you and his majesty as loyally as any of your subjects." His hands had clenched in fists at his sides. He had towered over me, like all giants, tall and imposing. But as I had looked back at him flatly, the petty hate in his eyes had made him seem very small. "But you are human. And you will never be _my_ Queen."

I would've let it slide with nothing more than a bemused smile and a 'sorry you feel that way', but his next words had made my spine prickle. "And whatever… half-breed _creatures_ that you might produce… No matter my loyalty, they will _never_ be _fit_ for the Jotun throne."

The way he said it made me certain that, if he dared to go on, he might have added something about me 'polluting the royal line forever'. Now, Loki and I weren't even _thinking_ about kids yet, not even _close,_ but for some reason, I'd become immediately defensive about whatever children I might have in future days. I was not the only one; those Jotuns around me at the time, who had grit their teeth or clenched their fists or clutched their weapons as the Jotun first began talking, now stood, rising in my defense. It had only been Loki's careful hand in front of them that had held them back, and they had all looked to him, startled that he would let his would-be-Queen's honor to be so besmirched, and not allow them to step in. Indeed, startled that he hadn't stepped in himself.

But Loki knew that I'd wanted the little weasel for myself. And so the Jotun soldiers were held back. I'd seen a brief flash of fear in the Giant's eyes as the others leapt forwards to shut him up, but now he looked at me in dark, smug triumph; as though I were proving his point for him by letting him live past that.

Carefully setting down what silverware that had been in my hands at the time, I pushed away from the table and stood, each movement slow and even. And then I'd smiled at him. And then I said seven words. Seven words that batted back his, that nullified his every deed and thought and word and action. Seven words that put me back in power again.

Standing against him, with a few feet of height difference between us, I looked at him and asked, "You _are_ a _small_ one, aren't you?"

The world had fallen silent. Even those fairly far away from this conversation had gotten very quiet, trying to hear our interaction. Shaking my head, I'd sighed deeply and continued. "A snake is a snake, no matter its skin; and I've seen serpents that slither less obviously than you. And mortals that speak with less poisoned words."

Tilting my head to the side, I'd looked at him. "If, because I am mortal, my deeds as a Shadowslayer are so easily dismissed, and Fraye herself was not such a threat-" I saw Jotuns flinching at her name, as they always did. Even dead, she commanded fear. "Then tell me why I never saw _you,_ an _immortal,_ at the battle? Nor why I see no scars on you today?" I stepped up to him. "Were you on the fringes of the war, fleeing its heart? Or were you simply too busy telling me and the 'mortal' Avengers that we did not _belong_ there to do any fighting of your own?" I shook my head, chuckling quietly. "You did not seem so against my help at the time. Why is it so different now?"

I took a step back, hands outspread and palms up, almost placating, but in the most denigrating, most condescending way that I knew how. "If we wed and I become Queen, then I can only hope to honor this planet as well as it has honored me," I gestured to those around me, nodding a few times to those who were seated and watching us. Thor and the Avengers, nearby, were watching with varied degrees of interest, and I saw Stark and Clint laying bets. None of them looked overtly surprised at the words that I was saying, but I was pretty sure most of them were egging me on nonetheless. "And if I do have children, no matter their heritage and no matter their stature, my only hope is that I can teach them to not be quite so _small_ inside as _you._ " I turned a sharp gaze back to the once-councilman. My lip quirked upwards in a smirk. "But, given the circumstances, I'm fairly certain that is a goal easily achieved."

The other Jotuns had been settling into their seats, though a few were still tensed, watching the other man. Many were smiling viciously. Loki had smug triumph flooding his eyes, but his face seemed relatively unsurprised and expressionless. The Jotun took a moment to process all of the accusations and insults that I'd thrown at him, but he was quick; only a few seconds later, and anger was burning in his eyes. It was the kind of uncontrolled rage that made him move forwards without thinking, taking a step towards me that was very distinctly threatening.

Immediately, the other Jotuns were rising again, Loki included; but I got there first. Barely a breath after the giant had moved, I had stepped towards him, my force field flickering into life and a glow spreading across my skin. In two swift, unerring steps, I was behind him, moving with an inhuman grace and speed as I ducked beneath his arms, gripped one of them, and twisted it behind his back. It would have been difficult to do with our height difference, but with one bad blow from a sharpened edge of the shield, I'd kicked the back of his knees, the razor blade of the force field drawing blood. He'd fallen to his knees with me still twisting his arm upright, and, in a heartbeat, I'd cut power to the shield and pulled Natasha's throwing knife from my belt, pressing it up against his throat.

The entire 'fight' took a total of five seconds, maybe less. But the shock of it trembled throughout the air. No one spoke. I think I was the only one that was still breathing. Even the Avengers were watching with wide eyes or raised eyebrows. After a few seconds, I saw Tony slide a ten dollar bill across the table with his index finger, over to Clint.

The silence lingered in the frigid air for a long moment. And then I'd leaned in close to the Jotun's ear. Though I brought my voice down to a whisper, it still carried on the howling winds, echoing and ethereal and haunting.

"I know a lot about pain," I told him in a soft voice. "I learned from the best." I traced the very edge of the blade across his skin, so that he would feel the cold steel, but it wouldn't pierce skin. If this kind of knife could even harm an immortal. Meh, it still looked menacing.

"And if you speak to me, _of_ me, or of whatever children that I might have in _this_ manner, _ever_ again… then I may have to show you _exactly_ what those lessons taught me." I brought the blade even closer, my face closer still. "Are we understood, _sir?_ "

He swallowed. I could feel the bob of his Adam's apple against the knife. But he nodded quickly, and choked out, "Aye, m'lady."

I released him, kicking him in the back to propel him forwards. He landed in the snow and immediately crawled away, pulling himself back to his feet despite the bleeding on the back of his knees. I plopped back down in my seat and looked to Tony and Clint with exaggerated innocence.

As everyone watched me, I ignored them and asked Barton, "Who won?"

He wasted no time falling into the same careless pattern that I did. "Who else?" Clint asked, grinning, seeming at ease with all eyes on him. He flicked through a few bills, then stashed them in his pocket. "Knew you wouldn't let him get away with anything less than a bruise."

I'd smiled, and, eventually, tense conversation started again. A Jotun or two congratulated me on the way I'd handled the situation, but for the most part any admiration for what I'd done was kept silent. I saw it in many, _many_ eyes, though; almost as if people were beginning to think that maybe, just _maybe,_ this mortal might make a decent queen after all.

Loki had slid his arm around my shoulder, holding me just briefly before nodding to me once and releasing me. It wasn't what I would have done, in the old days.

Times had changed.

But now, as I walked in the palace, looking for something to do while waiting for Loki to be finished with his kingly business, I pushed the memory from my mind. As I said, I didn't even remember the name of that giant; and he was not the only one who didn't like me. Though a majority of Jotunheim had _accepted_ me, and some _did_ like me; so that was a start.

I sighed to myself as I headed towards the center area of the palace reserved for its head mages: though I knew that they wouldn't be there. Sigil and Avalon, I had never realized before, were, in fact, the most powerful mages in Jotunheim; but no matter that rank, they preferred their more humble accommodations in the center of the city, practicing their magic where every other mage did. They preferred it there, closer to their studies, and rarely returned to their quarters here. It was a magic thing, Loki and I knew from experience; after all, he always came more alive whenever he was around the library, or involved in his own work. We left them to their devices.

Still, I had hoped to see them. I wasn't certain why, but I liked to check up on the two mages every so often. Just in case.

But, as usual, they were not there. But, as I stepped up to the door to knock, I realized that someone else _was._

I heard a long stream of curses from the other side of the door, a flowing torrent that had a nice head of steam to it, a buildup that had likely been going on for a while. I listened carefully, with raised eyebrows. Whoever it was, something had gone pretty dang wrong.

But there was something _off_ about it, something that didn't… _fit._ It took me a long moment before I realized that a majority of these curses were not Jotun; they were _human_.

I frowned. Loki didn't know about any humans arriving here, so it wouldn't have been one of the Avengers. But any other Midgardian besides us would have been considered a trespasser on our world. I stiffened, fists clenching. Well, best to deal with this immediately…but at least I should assess the situation, first. If it _was_ a human, it wouldn't hurt me too badly to lose the advantage of surprise; when one deals with superheroes and immortal aliens, a norm isn't exactly much of a threat.

The cursing had died down, and was now being followed by quiet mutterings; they sounded a little like self-reassurance. I knocked once, making my presence known, then pushed open the door. If it was Sigil (it was a male's voice, so I knew it was not Avalon) then I was sure he'd forgive whatever 'rudeness' this might hold, if I explained the situation. Sigil never really cared for 'politeness'; he showed it to very few, and if anyone showed it to him, he didn't really notice.

I was genuinely surprised to see that the owner of the voice on the other side of the door was, in fact, a Jotun. Blue skin, red eyes, patterns… sure, maybe a little on the short side, but not even close to Loki's or the twins' height. I took him in at a fast glance; he wasn't bald, like a lot of the Jotuns I'd seen, but rather had pitch-black hair, with sharp features and cheekbones almost as narrow as Loki's. He froze at the sight of me, petrifying into place, and I caught sight of the silver-black shackles on his wrists and ankles that marked him as a slave to one of the palace court. Definitely not ours: Loki and I had been working on the whole 'slavery' issue practically the instant since he'd gotten into power. It was amazingly, heartbreakingly slow moving. But then, he had only been here for a week; and there were so many other things we were changing, too.

The Jotun looked up at me, surprised, startled. I lifted an eyebrow at him and relaxed a touch; though my outer body posture relaxed entirely as I leaned against the door jam. "Quite a mouth you've got on you," I said, conversationally.

His red eyes went round. "Ah, shi- erm… you heard… uh, I mean…" he gathered himself together with a few more stutters and bowed quickly. It was only then that I realized how young he was; by Jotun standards, probably an older teenager, in both body _and_ mind (Sometimes those two varied in maturity levels, depending on the immortal). "My apologies, my lady." He swallowed, structuring his sentences very carefully. "I should not have subjected you to such vulgarities."

I grinned. Poor guy probably thought I'd have him killed for that. Some other person might have. Instead, however, I laughed once. "Son, you aren't saying anything I haven't heard before; or anything that I don't say myself on a daily basis." He flinched at the word 'son'; it was probably far too familiar, coming from _me,_ and being said to a slave. I glanced to the glass on the floor that he had been busy clearing away; probably what he'd broken to make him so upset in the first place.

I turned my gaze back to him. He was thin, lanky, with a wiry kind of musculature. It wasn't such an odd trait in a Jotun, but it wasn't all that common, either. As he looked back up to me, I asked, "So what are you doing in here, anyway?"

"Cleaning, m'lady," he answered quickly, keeping his eyes averted. He was shaking. I didn't think that it was from fear, or anger, but I couldn't think of any other reason why he would be. "I was meant to clean out the Mages' quarters, keep it ready for their return." He glanced down at the glass. "There was… an accident. It won't happen again."

"Well, there isn't a remedy for being a klutz yet," I said, still grinning at him. What could I say? I felt bad for the kid. Every time I looked at those cuffs on his wrists, my heart just… _burned._ Whoever his 'master' was, I just wanted to punch them in the mouth. Granted, I didn't see any lash marks or scars, so they were probably on the kinder side… but that still wasn't _good enough._ "If there was, I'd have taken it years ago," I went on, rolling my eyes.

Not that I was that klutzy anymore. A few years ago, it was rare for me to go a whole day without tripping on my two feet. Now, if I did that, I'd probably be rushed to the ER. Training with the Avengers had taught me how to place every footstep, to know every surrounding…

He seemed to blush. It was hard to tell with the blue skin. "As I said m'lady; my sincerest of apologies."

"Sheesh, kid, it's only a broken glass." There was a countertop nearby. I jumped up onto it, sitting there but not letting my feet kick out. He must have been stunned by my attitude; and others may have even had their reservations if they saw me this way. But whatever I was going to be on Jotunheim, I was determined to always be _me._ He looked up to me, as though asking for permission to return to his work, and I waved him off quickly, urging him to do so silently. He turned back to the glass and began to gather it together; it was possible that it had been important, but it was more likely that it had been one of the doodads that Sigil and Avalon kept around to make the place look more mysterious and magical. They had a habit of doing that; I think it was to see who was impressed by the real magic, and who by the fake. A way of weeding out those who pretended to be powerful.

He worked in silence for a moment as I watched him. I saw sweat trickling on the back of his neck as he did so, but he kept his mouth shut. Finally, I asked, "Half or quarter?"

He seemed confused. Turning back to me, but keeping his eyes averted, he asked, "I'm sorry, my lady?"

"Your human side," I elaborated, gripping the edge of the counter so that I could swing my legs back and forth. "You half human, quarter, what?"

He seemed so shocked that, for a second, he forgot his place- which made me happy to see, though I betrayed none of that- and looked up to me, his red eyes meeting mine as they widened. "How did you…?" he asked before he could clamp his mouth shut. Once he realized, he snapped his jaws shut and looked down abruptly.

I smiled at him. "Lucky guess, really. But you were using human curses, _human_ swears. Things that were strictly Midgardian." I swallowed. "That, combined with your height and the…" I glanced to the shackles, and my tone hardened. "General state of things… Well, two plus two is four." I propped my elbow on my thigh and my chin on my hand so that I could lean forwards, closer to him. "So which is it?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. Immediately, I backtracked, "Hey, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. If I'm prying, forget about it."

The slave shook his head quickly. "No, m'lady." He looked up at me again, this time a little more firmly. "I'm not ashamed of my human heritage. I will not be."

My lip quirked up. "And you _shouldn't_ be," I agreed with him.

He sighed quietly, looking away again, back to the broken glass on the floor. "My mother was human," he said after a second. "I was raised on Midgard for most of my life."

I'd suspected as much. Just because he was human didn't mean that he inherently knew all of our swear words. He carried on, again in a quiet tone, "I returned to Jotunheim after she died."

"And ended up here," I filled in quietly. He nodded twice, and I sighed. "You got a name, kid?"

He swallowed. "Puck."

I lifted an eyebrow, turning to him. "And you were raised on Earth? High school must've been hell."

He laughed quietly. "It was a nickname there," he said, seeming a little more relaxed suddenly. He was a very odd kid, but he was… open. Trusting.

No. No, that wasn't it. Even if he wasn't a slave, I knew he wasn't _trusting._ It was different from that, something strange and oddly… _powerful._ He was immediately open and friendly to me and I was immediately open and friendly to him because, in some weird way, I felt like… like I _knew_ the kid from somewhere. Like there was _something_ that tied us together… but I couldn't quite put my finger on _what._

"But, it is my name _here,_ " Puck went on. "My mother… she liked Shakespeare. So she would sometimes call me that."

Puck. From a Midsummer Night's dream. The meddling Trickster. I fought a little smile. "So what's your real name?"

He shrugged mildly, looking down. "That _is_ my real name now."

The way he said it made my heart do a little twist. Because I got that. I _understood_ that. This kid, a free child of Earth, was now a slave of Jotunheim; and more likely than not, it was because of his blood. The person he was here, on this world, was very different from the person he had been; so why wouldn't his name change as well?

"Yeah, I get that," I said quietly. We were silent for a moment, and Puck returned to his work. When he finished, he turned to me and bowed again, low and deeply. "My apologies, my lady, but… I must return."

I waved him off, watching him sadly. "Go. Do what you have to do." As he turned, I paused, then called, "And kid?"

He looked back.

"Never give up hope. Take it from one who's been there before; it's a very long road back."

There was a strange look on his face as I said this, something that was almost pity, almost sympathy… but was more like… _empathy._ "Yes, m'lady," he agreed, bowing again, then turned and left the room. No matter how powerful I got, it still made me uncomfortable to see people bowing in front of me.

"Fascinating."

I whirled on the voice, eyes narrowed, immediately assessing threats… but I stopped at the sight of Sigil. He was watching the place where Puck had left. He, like me, looked very… relaxed. Casual. As though this was a simple walk in the park, and he was not speaking to his future Queen. That was something that, I'll admit, I liked about Sigil. He never treated me differently, even after the announcement of my engagement to his king. I knew it was more because he just didn't care that much about power than it was that he liked me, but it was nice nonetheless.

"He's very different around you, that boy," Sigil said, motioning towards where Puck had left. "Not so… defiant."

I looked to him. "Oh?"

He nodded a few times, looking somewhat… distant. Finally, he turned to me, saying, "He vouched for you..." he seemed to catch himself, then smiled wryly and corrected himself with, "Rather, for my King Loki. When the Council convened to decide the fate of Jotunheim's monarchy; he spoke about… honor." Sigil was studying me as he said this. I knew that was why he was giving me this information: to see how I reacted. "That if you were to take the throne beside your affianced, he would serve under you with honor."

I kept my face even and neutral until Sigil looked away, though I was fairly surprised.

"It was a very reckless move, for a slave," Sigil went on. "Many thought he would not survive past it."

My eyebrows furrowed. I wondered why he'd do that, why he would say anything. Granted, I was human; and a human Queen with a Jotun King could do a great deal to assist the half-breeds of this world, whatever few that had survived. But still… even if he hadn't talked, the decision had seemed fairly unanimous. He didn't _need_ to. It wasn't _necessary._

I cleared the thoughts from my mind as Sigil told me, "My lady, I must warn you. Half-breed or not… there is something very _wrong_ with that slave." His red eyes were almost pleading. Almost. Sigil was never 'pleading'. "If you value my advice at all, my words in the slightest… I would ask for you not to trust him."

I frowned. Something inside of me rebelled against the words: not trust him? How could I not? We were closer than friends, we were almost blood!

 _What?_

We'd only had the one conversation. How could we be that close so… _quickly?_ How could I feel that way about him with just those few words, said in passing? How could I already care so… _deeply_ about this kid?

The feeling unnerved me, and I found myself nodding at Sigil. I didn't trust the mage, or his words, any further than I could pluck them out of his mouth and throw them down the street. But this feeling was powerful to the point of being dangerous, and it frightened me. So few 'relationships' that became so interlocked, so quickly, had led to anything _good._ It screamed-no, it downright _reeked-_ of manipulation.

"Thank you, Sigil," I said quietly. "I will… consider it."

He nodded, and I turned away from him, exiting out of the door, trying to shake off my apprehension. It was just because he was half-human; and he'd been raised on Earth. He was used to humans, but also a part of Jotunheim; like I was. We shared a common ground. That was all. That was it. No treachery or deception, no immediate close bond. Nothing.

Still, as I walked back to my quarters, I couldn't fight the unease that stirred through me. Because there had been something inside of me that was screaming, above anything else, to _protect_ this child.

And the last time that had happened, the child was Fraye.

* * *

I was waiting in our shared quarters when Loki arrived, my nose stuffed firmly in a book. The difference between Jotun and Midgardian literature was… fascinating. I found myself rather enthralled by the former.

I looked up to Loki as he entered the room and smiled at him, despite the fact that he looked just about as exhausted as I felt. My eyes softening, I asked, "Rough day?"

"Tuh!" He rolled his red eyes and didn't give a proper response, all but collapsing into a nearby chair. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, pushing against them so hard that pinpricks of light began to fizzle behind his eyelids. I smiled at him gently and removed myself from my chair in order to stand by his. He peered over his hand to look at me as I made it within a few feet and noted, "You're exhausted."

"So are you," I pointed out, matter-of-factly, taking him in with a swift glance. Despite his tiredness, he still looked royal as all heck, still in full Jotun regalia that would probably not have looked so impressive if someone on Earth tried to pull it off, but looked pretty freaking incredible on a Frost Giant. There were metal armbands on his wrists, some impressively styled metal armor on his shoulder, and a cape so dark green that it looked almost black (typically it _was_ black, but Loki had to put his own personal touch on it). He wore Jotun-style pants and, as with most Frost Giants, no shirt. There wasn't exactly a crown on his head, not currently, but currently, it wasn't really necessary. On Jotunheim, it was so very rarely necessary.

I reached forwards and helped him to undo the metal armor, the wrist bands. In a lot of ways, I knew that he missed his old Asgardian look; and in a lot of ways, I missed it, too. But there were other occasions where he could use it; and even on Jotunheim, he frequently used his helm. So that was something. His old life hadn't entirely died.

I sat on the armrest of his chair as I undid the cape, and I smiled at him. He looked me up and down as I did so. Jotunheim had changed the way both of us looked; while he always went around wearing a little less, now in his more natural environment, I wore a whole lot more. At all times, I wore thick, long-sleeved shirts and pants, and frequently more than that. It was a friggin' _ice planet._ I was a little fragile for it, unfortunately.

He sighed quietly as I set the metal armor on the ground, then reached forward and took my hand carefully. "I'm not used to being without you," he said quietly.

"Makes everything so much worse somehow, doesn't it?" I agreed. For the past few weeks, we'd been within each other's sight practically at all times. For the two of us to be so split apart for the whole day like this… it was a little odd. Granted, we were still in each other's minds, and we could still talk at any time… but it wasn't quite the same.

I stayed sitting on the armrest until I started to lose my balance; then I pulled up a chair in front of him, very close to him. I ran through the memories of his day as he ran through the memories of mine, catching up on everything. He frowned at the mention of Puck.

"I've heard of that half-breed," he reminded me quietly. 'Reminded me' because, somewhere in the back of our minds, I knew before he said it aloud. "There are not many that reach his age."

My eyebrows furrowed. "How old is he?"

He shrugged mildly. "I'm not certain. Old enough to be a rarity." His eyes grew thoughtful, and he brought his hand up, resting his index finger beneath his lip. "But then… any age past a few days would be a rarity."

There was a trace of bitterness in these words. It was something that, I was sure, Loki understood; half-breeds and smaller Giants would share that particular fate here. Loki himself had been abandoned and left to die. It was possible that Puck had been, too, at one point.

"Though it is… odd, that Sigil would say something against him," Loki went on, pushing the past aside. The world that had once rejected him had now made him king. He had proven them all wrong. He had proven his own worth. "He very rarely says anything that he does not have to."

Well that much was true. For Sigil to say something like that, and so… out of nowhere? It was definitely something new. I shoved the thoughts of the half-breed and the mage aside. "I suppose so," I said quietly, letting the thought trail off, before changing subjects a moment later. "What about that issue this morning? At the perimeter of the palace?"

Loki frowned. I knew what had happened, but it _was_ curious; curious enough to warrant the two of us actually _talking_ about it, instead of just sharing a memory. "In truth," the Trickster told me, "I have never seen such an occurrence." The forefront of his mind was suddenly occupied by the image of event; or rather, what he suspected was the aftereffects of an event. I scanned it with him.

"It doesn't seem like a direct attack," I noted, taking in the devastation, the leveled stone and ice surroundings that had been… eaten away. It seemed to spread away from an epicenter, an almost perfect circle of carnage. The palace wall had only been clipped by it, the ice burned and devoured by… something. But the area surrounding was much worse; I hadn't known that stone could turn that… _black._

And then there was that… _feeling,_ in the air. I may not have sensed it, had I been there, but Loki most certainly had; a type of magic that stirred the cold and made it feel… wrong. As though the planet itself rejected this place, as though it was… sick. It was twisted and vile and went against natural laws of the universe; but it was impossible to tell what _it_ was.

But still, the damage had not been centered around the palace walls. In fact, the wall had only barely been clipped by it; a majority of it had been spread out farther away. It was a fairly large circle of damage; perhaps a ten foot diameter. But it was almost- _almost-_ perfect.

"No," Loki agreed, "I don't believe so." His eyes narrowed in thought, becoming somewhat distant. "But I have never seen anything like this. Nothing with such… _raw_ power."

I frowned. "Well, I dunno, Fraye was pretty-"

"Fraye was… natural." At my dubious look, he corrected himself smoothly. "Or, at least, her _abilities_ were. This was different." He pulled up the memory again. "Everything within that circle was eradicated. There was nothing inside of it." He shook his head, "There is not a power in the universe that can make something into nothing. Perhaps reduce it to dust… but not nothing. At the very least… not a _known_ power." He sighed deeply, running his hands over his face. "And the worst of it is, I recognize this pattern. But I can't recall where from."

I quirked a smile. "Well, we've all got those days." I stood up, ruffling his picture-perfect hair as I passed by him. "You'll figure it out," I promised, kissing the top of his head and heading to the other end of the room. He stayed where he was, recognizing my intent to change into what passed for my PJs here and kept his stare forward and distant as I changed in the next room, leaving the door open so that we could still talk. Walls were placed up in our minds as I asked, "Do you think you should talk to Odin? Maybe he's seen it before."

"Run to the Asgardian King for help within the first week of ruling?" He shook his head, standing. He, himself, needed to change, and he did so in this room, still calling over to me. "Oh yes, that is behavior _most_ befitted to a Shadowslayer."

"I thought _I_ was the sarcastic one in this relationship," I grumbled, pulling my shirt over my head and yanking my hair out of the ponytail that I'd put it in after coming back to Jotunheim. It was so much easier to keep it that way these days; and I was even contemplating cutting it. Not making it too short, but maybe like Natasha's. Give an opponent less of an advantage, less hair to grab and less to entangle on something. Raising my voice a little, I said, "I wouldn't necessarily call it 'running' to him. Relations between Asgard and Jotunheim haven't been this good in a very long time. You should take advantage of that. Build alliances. If you trust them to help you, maybe they'll know that they can ask you for the same." I bit my lip as I gauged myself in the mirror briefly, then waited just inside for him to finish. "I guess… I dunno, maybe it'd be good for both worlds to show that they've got each other's backs."

Loki let out a breath of sound that was almost a laugh. He pulled on his own shirt and stared into space, contemplative. "You think our worlds should protect each other."

"Well… yeah. I mean, you totally kicked ass on Fraye together. With her out of the way, there's no reason you shouldn't… get along."

There was a long beat of silence. And then he continued to change, finishing up as he said, "Thor will be king of Asgard soon, Miss Frost. His coronation is already set." He seemed very distant as he said this, carrying on with, "Us 'protecting' each other is hardly a new concept. However…" Another brief silence.

And then he sighed. It was a sigh filled with an old, tired misery. "The problem, Miss Frost, with 'having someone's back'… is that you are always in their shadow."

My heart gave a little twist alongside his. He loved Thor, he'd never hurt him again, he'd definitely 'learned the error of his ways'… but there was still a lot of old pains separating the two. I swept my head briefly to be certain that he had lowered his walls and barriers, signifying that he had finished… and then I stepped into the room. Carefully, I walked up behind him, then turned my back to him and pressed it against his.

"Well, I guess I'll always have _your_ back, then," I said quietly, as he glanced over his shoulder at me. He half-smiled wearily, stepping away from me so that he could turn and face me; I faced him, too. Carefully, he kissed my forehead.

"Sentimental mortal," he chided quietly, shaking his head as he walked away from me.

"Bitter old man," I chided in turn, following after him. He snorted as my hand laced in his.

The two of us took care of the rest of the daily nighttime rituals- brushing teeth and hair, etc, etc- in silence. I finished first and waited for him in the bed, flaring my glow as I always did in nighttime. We found it easier than sleeping with a proper light; and we definitely could not sleep in the dark. Fraye had left her mark on us in more ways than one.

As Loki got onto his side of the bed, I smiled at him and settled back on the pillows. "And just think: we get to do all of this again tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes as he slid down, lying down next to me. "Tell me you will be back sooner than you were today."

"I will," I promised; and it was true. I only had one class tomorrow, and no other errands to run besides. "I'll only be gone a few hours." I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling. "But, as usual, you'll still be king all day."

He half-sighed, gently wrapping his arm around my waist. "At least in prison, I had time to think," he grumbled quietly. I grinned.

"Ah, we'll get used to it. You like playing the political game, I know you do." The smile stretched as I closed my eyes… then opened them again. "Besides, it's nice for me to get back to 'normal' for a little while. Back to being… I dunno, _human_ again." I looked at the beautiful crystal ice ceiling, feeling oddly wistful all of a sudden. "Though… I guess… I guess I can see why you thought of them as…" my voice lowered. "Lesser."

The tone in my words pricked his curiosity; he sat up, giving me a quizzical look as he propped himself upright on his elbow, half-leaning over me so that I could see his face even as I stared upright. "How so?" He asked, with the barest lacing of worry in his tone.

I waved a flippant hand, as though it would brush his concerns away. "Ah, it's nothing. Just… watching all of these norms walk around, living their lives… and it seems like so many of the decisions in their lives are just… futile. They affect a few other people, here and there, but… their decisions don't have _consequence._ They haven't seen anything past their own little worlds and their own little lives, and they just carry on like it actually matters." I sighed quietly. "And in so many ways, it does. And it's for those little lives and little decisions that I made all of these bigger ones, that I saw the things I did and kept the power that I have… And in a lot of ways, I envy them. I envy the fact that they don't _have_ to make these decisions. But, at other times… I pity them. Because their lives aren't in their own hands any more… and they don't even know it. They don't even _know_ the stuff we do to keep them safe. They just care about… about a new excuse to chew gum in class, or their next break, or how hard the newest homework assignment is going to be."

As his eyes grew a trace of sympathy, I carried on, "They just seem so… _small,_ Loki. So fragile. Like I could just reach out a hand and break them in half." I looked to him. "I didn't use to think this way. I mean, I always knew they were… _delicate._ But…" I lowered my voice by a great deal, not meeting his brilliant red eyes. "It never… _disgusted_ me, before. How…" my eyes squeezed tight. "How _weak_ they all truly are."

There was a long silence; the longest of the night. And then I opened my eyes, to look up at him. His face was unreadable, carefully expressionless. But he was shaking his head and, after a moment, he laughed acerbically.

"So I learn to value mortals more, and you value them far less," he said. "Is that what you are saying?"

I slugged him in the arm, because it was fun to punch things and he was nearby. "No. I'm not gonna go around screaming for people to kneel to me like a crazy maniac." I jutted my chin out defiantly. "I'm just saying that I understand it more, you know? How you could… _see_ people as lesser than you." I bit my lip. "Especially… especially after you've spent a lot of your life thinking of yourself as lesser than everybody else."

His eyes tightened. We both knew that feeling all too well. Slowly, he lowered himself back down next to me, similarly staring up at the ceiling. After a long time, I linked my hand in his.

"Ah, forget about it," I said, pushing the thoughts aside. "I guess… I dunno, I guess that I just miss having what they do. I just miss… being human. And so part of me just wants to view it as a weakness, because I can never have it again." I closed my eyes. "I'll get over it eventually."

Loki didn't respond for a long time. I didn't think there was a good response to that, and it was probably unfair of me to silently wish for one. For some reassurance that it would be okay. But, nonetheless, that wish was granted a moment later.

"Don't be foolish, Frost," Loki said coolly. "You're still human." He turned again so that he could close his eyes and wrap his arm around me. "Far _too_ human, in some ways."

I snorted quietly at that. "Well, compared to a Frost Giant, yeah, you could say that."

He smiled softly, reaching his hand up so that he could gently stroke my cheek with his hand, opening his eyes so that he could look at my face. "Don't trouble yourself with it," he told me softly. "You will become accustomed to this life soon enough. And if not, then you will have all the time you need to do so."

"I know," I said, closing my eyes. "And… well, I'm glad you'll be there to help me with that." I settled back further into the pillows, curling up next to him. He smiled softly in the glow-lit darkness, closing his eyes.

Together, we forgot the world, and fell asleep.

* * *

Loki sat, watching me silently. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he was counting my every breath. Waiting for them to run out, when he knew that they would not do so for a very long time…

But not long enough. Not for him.

He closed his eyes, running his hand down his face. He knew that he should return to my side, knew that my nightmares would start again, that the longer he stayed sitting in this chair and just… _watching,_ the longer the nightmares had to return. But he had his own foul dreams to contend with. He had his own battles with sleep that had woken him, kept him here. He could not close his eyes, could not return to that.

Could not return to his own funeral… for that was what it was. My funeral, his funeral, weren't they the same? Wasn't he watching his own coffin being lowered into the ground, trying to stutter out his own eulogy, while his head screamed with empty numbness and horrific, deadened pain?

He rubbed his green eyes carefully. Green, now, because just as his Jotun form would frequently bleed through his Asgardian one, he now found that the Asgardian one would bleed through the Jotun. He knew I didn't mind, that I saw it as him either way, but it was still a worry, if someone else should see it.

But he had other, far greater worries.

 _I will not go back to that, Frost. I will not become that again. I will not live without you._

It had only been a month. One month since he'd been… _that._ Since the world had been hollow and his mind empty and Death screaming to claim him and him screaming to allow it but something standing in between… Loki shuddered. The memories were branded into his mind forever, memories of an irrevocable time, a past best left forgotten but could never be forgiven. No matter what I said, that could not be forgiven.

But he would not make the same mistakes again. He would not allow me to die a second time. Whatever it took.

"Ugh, you're really depressing me, you know that?"

He blinked, looking at me as I slammed my hand on the mattress and pushed myself up off the pillows. "I am _trying_ to sleep, here," I scolded.

Usually that might have gotten a soft smile, a sad smirk. Something. And then he would come back and sit next to me until one of us fell asleep. Usually.

But tonight he merely turned to me, studied me in silence for a long moment, then turned away. His hands folded, fingers interlacing, and he rested them by his face, thinking into them. His eyes were hard and distant. And, I noticed for the first time, green. Asgardian eyes. He hadn't noticed this yet, but he only ever changed into this other form when he was feeling guilty. It was a subconscious transition: something to hide what he still partly viewed as the 'monster' within. And, if I was the source of this guilt (and I typically was), then it also showed a 'better' side of himself, a side he thought that I preferred; as it looked more 'human'. The side of himself that he thought I'd fallen in love with; and in a way, he was right. I'd fallen in love with what he could be, with what he should be, what he _was._ The better parts of him. But not this form. Not this face, or those eyes, as perfect as they might be. Because either way, Jotun or Asgardian, it was the better part of him inside that mattered to me, cheesy as it was.

As he stared unseeingly into a distance away from me, I decided that the 'usual' wasn't going to cut it. Time to kick it up a notch.

I stood, walking out of the bed, and crossed the room to stand in front of where he was staring. His eyes lifted to my face as I folded my arms and tapped one foot in over exaggerated impatience. "You're not going to solve the issues of the universe by staying awake all night."

The bitterness in his eyes was sharp and cold as, with poisoned words, he asked, "Then how shall I solve them, Miss Frost?"

"Not like this."

"I see no other alternative."

I scowled. Drumming my fingers on my arm a few times and gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I finally announced, "Fine. But if you stay up all night, then so will I."

I sat on the edge of his armrest, planting myself there stubbornly. "And then we'll _both_ be miserable," I added, crouching there with a mulish expression. Loki watched me out of the corner of his eye, sitting motionless for a moment. And then he rolled his eyes, gripped my shirtsleeve, and pulled it towards him.

Unfortunately, sitting on the edge of an armrest is not great for balancing. His simple tug immediately tipped me over, and as I cried, "Woah, hey!" I started to tumble. I caught myself before I fell entirely onto him, holding on to the armrest with both hands at an awkward angle, but a gentle push on my shoulder from Loki corrected that, and down I fell. He caught me and held me there before I fell entirely onto the ground, turning me around so that I was facing him and taking my hands in one of his, long fingers binding my wrists together. His eyes twinkled regardless of the solemn expression on his face; the one that he was trying to keep up, the coldness that he was trying to hold onto.

"You are the most headstrong human I have ever met," he informed me matter-of-factly.

I frowned at him, struggling to pull my wrists out of his hand, to free my bound hands. "That's not true," I pointed out as I did so, not looking at him, but rather keeping my eyes on the task at hand. "What about Tony?"

"No."

"Huh. That's a new personal best, then," I said, trying to maintain my cheer as I lifted my hands up and twisted them about, trying to throw off Loki's grip. It remained as firm as ever. He watched my struggles with a bemused and patronizing smile, like watching Hyde trying to decimate a piece of yarn. "What about Bruce?" I asked.

"Banner has never particularly struck me as 'headstrong'."

"No, but the Other Guy sure is."

"The Hulk is not 'human'. So the title still falls entirely to you."

I gave up on fighting my hands out of his and instead turned a glare to him. Holding my bound wrists up, I asked, "Give me back my hands, wouldja?"

"I think not." His eyes were full-fledged dancing now. A few years ago, that look on his face would've terrified the crap outta me. But then, a few years ago, I would've had good reason to be scared. Now, well… now I was just a bit irritated. But it was worth it, to see him a little more like his old self, instead of continually… _brooding._ Even if his laughter had to be bought at the expense of my ego.

So I scowled at him and got back to work on twisting my hands out of his grip. It was surprisingly difficult. "What about Bird Brain? He's pretty stubborn."

"Aye," Loki answered with his best political voice. "But not even the archer is so stubborn that he feels it necessary to argue about how headstrong he is."

The jab caught me off guard, and I froze, trying to decode it for a moment. When I got it, my eyes narrowed on him and his small but unbearably smug grin. "I hate you."

"Such foul words," Loki said, one eyebrow rising. "You injure me, my lady."

"I'll do a lot worse if you don't-erf-" I struggled more firmly against his hand, straining against them and speaking my words through gritted teeth. "Let me _out_ of this…"

"I see no reason to give up this advantage at this time." He answered smoothly, his grip tightening just slightly. His eyes were still shining brilliantly, a hidden laughter in his words… but for a brief second, though the tightening around my wrists did not actually _hurt_ me, it felt… frightening. My heart skipped a beat, my stomach lurching. I couldn't get out. I couldn't get out of his grip even if I wanted to, even if I tried hard enough, I was trapped, I was trapped and I suddenly realized that there was darkness all around, darkness everywhere, and what if that darkness came alive again…?

"Loki," I said, and my voice suddenly sharpened, ice crystals gleaming as blades around my words. It was nothing more or less than a command as I ordered, "Let go of my hands."

He immediately sensed the change and released my wrists, pulling his own hand back swiftly. Without another word, I rolled off of him and the chair, dropping to the ground in a crouch on my hands and feet, then pulled myself up swiftly. Loki allowed me to go without protest, allowed me to take a few steps away from him, looking at the ground and shaking. My fingers trembled at my sides as I pulled in a few deep breaths, slow and sure, measured and tightly controlled. In, out. In, out.

I focused on the cold, icy rush of Jotun air through my lungs until my heart slowed again, until my hands became still. I rubbed my wrists carefully, massaging out the trapped, buzzing feeling inside of them as I turned back to Loki. The smile, the laughter, the twinkle in his eyes, it had all vanished, evaporated and wiped clean away. His eyes were now tight, his hands in loose fists. There was empathy and blame on his face as his eyes lowered, down to my arm, where, beneath my sleeve, his name was carved in scars on my skin.

I laughed half-heartedly, nervously, knowing that it wouldn't work but needing to try something. "Well that kinda killed the good mood," I said, but as I did so, his eyes turned to solid jade, rock and stone, hardening as he looked at me, and my voice trailed off. I lowered my gaze. "Sorry. I just… couldn't… I mean…"

" _You,"_ Loki cut me off harshly. His voice lowered, however, as he went on. "Have nothing to _apologize_ for."

He took a shaky breath himself, in and out, trying to keep calm. To stop his own trembling, though his was for far different reasons. He closed his eyes and said, in a tone that was as even as it was dark, "This is the consequence of my own actions. My _own_ faults. Not yours." He sighed heavily. "When such things occur… when such things happen to you, it is my burden to bear."

I took just a brief moment to digest that, to think that over. And then my eyes narrowed. "Well that's pretty freaking _selfish_ of you, isn't it?"

He looked up to me, to my face, startled. I rolled my eyes and said, disgustedly, "Ugh, how many times do we have to go _over this,_ Loki? It's not _your_ 'burden', all right? Because _you're_ not the one who has to deal with it! _You're_ not the one who goes crazy every so often, _you're_ not the one who has to deal with this damn PTSD, _you're_ not the one who was _there,_ who was _handed over,_ who was _tortured!_ No, _you're_ the one who has to deal with the _guilt,_ but don't you _get it,_ Loki? I don't _want you to!_ I've told you a _thousand freaking times_ to _forgive yourself,_ and you just _won't_ _ **listen!**_ And so _I_ have to deal with not only the _stress,_ and the _anxiety,_ and the ' _episodes',_ no, I've got to deal with _your_ damn _guilt_ as well! And you think that you're being oh-so-friggin'- _noble_ by taking that blame on your shoulders, by 'dealing with it' and 'bearing the burden' of dealing with _your_ pain over _my_ episodes, but you're _not,_ Loki! You're being _selfish!_ If you were really being _noble,_ you'd just _let it the hell go when I_ _ **ask you to!**_ You'd _try_ to _forgive yourself,_ because it's hard enough for me to do that by myself, but if you blame yourself, like _She_ blamed you, like she tried to brainwash _me_ into blaming you, then where the _hell does that leave_ _ **me?!"**_

The volume of my words had gotten louder and louder with each one, until the last ones were shouted out with a few droplets of spittle, my eyes half-mad as my fists shook at my sides. But now I lowered my voice, brought it down again. "Your 'burden to bear' shouldn't just be… _sticking around_ for me, just _staying with_ me, when I show off my broken, crazy side. It should be… taking care of me when I need you to, sure, but… but maybe you could just… move on with life from time to time? I mean…" I looked up to him, brown eyes wide and pleading. "We were happy, Loki. We were perfectly happy and laughing, and yeah, I had a moment, but that was all it had to be: a _moment._ Everything would have been okay if we had just… laughed it off. Moved on." I looked to him. "Why don't you _get that,_ Loki?"

He didn't reply for a long time, staring at me, shocked and slightly hurt. But I didn't see it. I _couldn't_ see it. His pain… it meant practically nothing at the moment.

I laughed quietly. "I mean… I'm going to _college,_ Loki. Pointless, worthless, ridiculous _college…_ just for a chance to feel _normal_ again. To be…" I looked down to my arms, slowly sliding my sleeve down, so that I could look at the inside of my forearm, at the scars there. "To be _human_ again," I whispered. "And you… you used to do that for me, Loki. In your own sick, twisted way… you'd always remind me that that's what I was in the end. 'Foolish mortal', 'little human', all these things, these stupid… stupid _insults_ of yours… _they_ made me feel more human than I do now, than any of your _guilt_ does now!" I threw up my hands. "Tell me why that is, Loki! Tell me why I felt more like a normal human being when we were _enemies_ than I do right now! Tell me why the _one person_ I need to treat me like I'm… like I'm _normal…_ just treats me like _glass!"_

His eyes had softened. In a voice that was weak and weary as he looked, he answered, "Because you are not normal, Natalie. Because everything has changed."

" _No!_ " I shouted, and in two quick steps, I was in his face, jabbing a finger in his chest. " _No!_ Stop that! Stop giving me that… that _look!_ I don't need your _pity!_ I don't need your _sympathy!_ And I sure as hell don't need your _guilt!_ I _need_ to _move on,_ don't you get that? I need to… to _forget her!_ To forget what she did, what she made me… what she made _us!"_ I wasn't crying. In the old days, I might have been. But I hadn't cried since Fraye. I hadn't cried since the darkness. And I didn't think that I could anymore.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Because there could be no forgetting what had been hard-wired into you. And I knew that. Loki knew that.

But I didn't _want_ to know.

I pulled back before I could say anything I regretted, pulled away from him and closed my eyes. "Of course everything's changed, Loki. But that doesn't mean that we have to change everything."

And then I turned and walked out the door. Loki watched me go, but he didn't protest. He didn't bother.

I made it halfway across the palace, into a small, forgotten room, before I had to collapse, sitting down on the floor and curling into a ball, holding my head in my hands.


	2. The Slave and the Wolf

I woke up the next morning back in the bed, curled up in a ball, and completely alone. The room was empty, but… I knew I hadn't fallen asleep in here. I didn't even remember falling asleep in the first place.

I scanned my head; only to discover that Loki was busy and trying to stay out of my thoughts. He did, however, allow me to see his memories of the night previous; in which he had waited for me to fall asleep an hour or so after our 'fight', then retrieved me, carrying me back to the bed and placing me there while he sat up for the rest of the night. He stayed next to me, keeping out the nightmares… but he otherwise did nothing. Didn't sleep. Didn't lie down next to me. Didn't curl up next to me as he always did. He just sat there, staring into the glow-lit darkness.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyes and sitting upright, checking the battery-powered clock next to the bed. My one class for the day was at a later time, so I had a few hours to kill before I had to be there. I got out of the bed and did a normal daily routine- _my_ normal, anyway- going to the mirror and pulling off the thick shirt and pants. The cold air was freezing, as usual, but it made my skin paler, made the red of my scars easier to see. I exhaled in relief; they were healing nicely. Most of them didn't even hurt anymore. The shadow infection beneath my skin was wearing away. The Jotun Healers were surprisingly talented; even Fera, the grey-eyed Healer on Asgard, had been impressed, the last time I went there.

It was normal, to see which ones had completely recovered, which needed a few more days, which needed a few more weeks. I was getting better at guessing; the little one on my lower back had vanished, as I thought it would when I'd checked on it yesterday. A majority of them still had a while to go, but the smaller ones were fading fast. Not fast enough, but fast.

I took a bath- a surprisingly difficult feat, here, as the water was warm but the air freezing as frick- and changed into my daily clothes, adding an extra sweater that I would not be wearing on Earth, and thick boots that I would be changing for sneakers when I left. I also slid a throwing knife in my belt, though I knew that would have to go as well. Still, it was a pretty common thing, here.

It was a normal human reaction, to look in the mirror as you passed by. But Loki and I had both harbored unnatural fears of mirrors for a long time, though for different reasons. He did it because he didn't know who would look back: Would his reflection show Loki Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, or Natalie Frost?

Besides. He'd had a bad experience with mirrors during those four months I'd been gone. He still hated them.

I, on the other hand, hated them because I knew _exactly_ who would stare back. I just didn't like her. She was an Avenger, she was the Future Queen of Jotunheim, she was Inhuman and she was Powerful and she was Dangerous. She was even somewhat beautiful, in a predatory sort of way. And the problem with her was that her skin fit too well on my body, because she wasn't human, she was a monster. She was the thing that my father always feared. She was the thing that Loki had tried to create in his eyes, and that Fraye had succeeded in creating in everyone _else's_ eyes. She could, would, and had already killed. She knew a lot about pain and, if push came to shove, she could teach someone else.

It was terrifying, to know that she was me.

I walked down the hall, stopping only when I saw a familiar face meandering down the hallway. The way my heart leapt when I saw him, the way that immediate joy flooded me, made me feel very, very suspicious.

Still, that suspicion didn't stop me from grinning and waving to the slave. "Hey, Puck!"

He froze at the sound of my voice. When he saw me, he smiled, but he bowed deeply to cover it. "Lady Frost."

"Walk with me?"

He looked behind him nervously. "I was meant to…"

"Well, tell your 'owner' that I had to borrow you for a bit." The word 'owner' made me so sick to my stomach that I had to say it sarcastically or end up retching mid-word. "He'll understand, I'm sure."

"No offense meant, Lady Frost, but 'he' is in fact a 'she'."

I lifted an eyebrow. Puck didn't continue. I walked next to him, his head lowered as we did so. "Huh," I said, nodding a few times. "I'll remember that."

And I would.

Trying to pry my fingers out of the fists they were clenched in, I smiled again at the half-breed slave. I noticed then, the nervousness in his every footstep, the way his eyes darted. I lowered my voice a little. "Hey, kid… I'm not gonna hurt you. Relax a little."

He glanced to me. For a brief second, I saw that same, unexplainable but undeniable trust in his eyes that I knew lurked in mine. Our gazes met in mutual accordance, assurance of the other's integrity, no matter how bizarre or sudden that assurance might have been. I liked that the kid trusted me. I didn't like that I trusted the kid. Because I don't trust _anyone._ These emotions reeked of magic and I didn't like it in the slightest.

 _But it can't be magic,_ I thought to myself. _Loki would have sensed it. And the link would have stopped it._

 _Fat chance,_ a darker part of myself snarled. _The link didn't stop it last time._

That was true enough; though Loki and I hadn't exactly been on great terms the last time. The more in agreement we were, the stronger our mental connection. That was the way it was. That was the way it _always_ was.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head as Puck, still giving me that weird trusting look, said quietly, "It is not you that I worry about, my lady. But there are others who would not take our interaction so well."

'Others'. I clamped onto the word. "Like who?" I asked, immediately on the defensive. But not for my _own_ defense. The protective instinct, in me, was normal; but now it was going into overdrive, and I wasn't sure why. More importantly, I wasn't sure how to _stop_ it.

Puck gave me a sideways, wry smile, looking at me out of the corner of his eye as he kept his face downwards. It was an oddly twisted, crooked gesture. "Enough men that anyone, even the betrothed of a king, could not possibly hope to stop every one of them."

"You haven't seen me on a bad day."

He fought a laugh. I could see him trying to restrain it. The glint in his eye was strangely sarcastic, and he looked forwards again, to the ground again, as we continued forwards.

He mulled over the question for a long moment, then came up with a second response. "Your stance on slavery is fairly well known, my lady. But, on seeing us speaking together, I am afraid that my position would not be in question so much as my blood." He glanced to me. "Your blood, my lady."

The words were simple and quick, but convoluted. Still, it was easy for me, another dancer of words, to grasp their meaning. I rolled my eyes and nodded slowly, sighing a sigh that came from somewhere deep inside of me. "They think that, because I'm human, I'll have a soft spot for others who are part human."

"Don't you?"

"I do," I admitted, "But not because I'm human. If I cared anything about the difference between species, I probably wouldn't have bothered to warn Jotunheim about Fraye in the first place." I bit my lip to keep from growling out the obvious: that people had no problem with my morals when it assisted them, but realms spare you if they ever helped anyone _else._ My irritation was such that I didn't even completely notice that Puck did not flinch at the mention of Fraye's name, as most every other Jotun did. Some part of me noted it, though, in the corner of my mind.

"I have a soft spot for half-breeds because they're the downtrodden," I went on. "The ones who basically just told the world, 'screw you, I'm surviving', and then followed through with it." Puck again fought with himself, this time barely managing to win the struggle against his grin. I continued as though I hadn't seen it. "You said that you wouldn't be ashamed of your human heritage; and _that's_ what I like about you, kid. Because no matter how often people try to beat it out of you- and I'm sure they've done so _multiple_ times- you're not ashamed of who you are. It's a trait that not a lot of people share."

He seemed to cotton on to the fact that I only barely managed to keep from adding, 'myself included' at the end of that statement. I doubted that there was a person on any of our planets who was more ashamed of who they were than I was. No, wait, that wasn't entirely true. Maybe Loki. Maybe.

But then… that was why his guilt was so damn _toxic._

"Thank you, Lady Frost," Puck said quietly. "I am… honored, that you think so highly of me."

The words were genuine; not the typical sniveling you'd expect from one of the many thousands of snakes and weasels that roamed the palace courts, nor the words of silent wrath spoken from a slave, doing lip service to those who held the power of life and death over them at all times. No, these words rang with truth. He wasn't lying; and believe me, I would have known if he was.

 _You'd know because of your instinct. So_ _ **trust**_ _your instinct for once,_ some inner part of me grumbled. _You haven't known this kid long enough to trust him like you do. He's bad news. Easy enough to see._

How desperately I wanted to trust someone so unconditionally again. But no, that had never been a trait of mine. Unconditional trust? Impossible, from one who has been burnt and broken and bruised by all of those she's meant to place her confidence in: My father. The voice in my head. The little girl who came asking for help.

 _The half-breed slave who sticks up for who he is…_

"Well, here's hoping you live up to it, kiddo," I said, nudging him in the arm.

He smiled weakly. "Aye, m'lady," he answered quietly.

We were silent for a long time, just walking there together. It wasn't the uncomfortable silence I thought it'd be. Even Puck didn't look discomfited by the situation. Indeed, he seemed to thrive in it, and I could see his eyes whirring in thought as he concentrated inside of the silence.

It was a few moments before we were passed by a member of the palace court; one whom I had not seen frequently, on the younger side. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she immediately bowed low, entirely ignoring the slave at my side. As was frequently the way; I stifled the sigh of disappointment. She had been raised to believe that this was right; naturally, she still thought that way.

"G-Greetings, Lady Shadowslayer," she said quietly. I smiled at her and nodded, though the name sent me on edge, as it tended to do. She did her best not to run off, still buzzing with energy, trying to contain her excitement. Not all of the palace court had seen me, talked to me, even noticed me yet. Loki kept me pretty much cooped up in one room; and, with the way my mental state had been, I'd been all right with that. Until college came along, of course. But it was only natural for her to be excited: I was a living legend. The powerful mortal who warned their world of Fraye's return, the Child of Frost who allied them with the Asgardians, their foes, and the Shadowslayer, who had killed their worst nightmare, destroyed her once and for all…

It was only after I noticed Puck's eyes on me that this strain of lonely melancholy died off. "What?" I asked him.

He looked away quickly. "It's nothing, my lady."

"It's something," I corrected, nudging him again. "G'on. Spit it out."

He hesitated for a long moment, but I waited him out patiently. Nervously, edgily, he asked, "Why… why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Allow them to call you that," he answered, looking up to me. As my eyebrows furrowed, he explained, "Shadowslayer." I winced again. His forehead creased in concentration, the way Loki's sometimes did. "It obviously upsets you."

"No it doesn't," I said, a little too quickly, laughing it off lightly. "It's a title of honor. Of respect."

There was a quiet moment, and I thought the matter had been dropped. But then Puck said, "It originates from your darkest moment."

I looked to him. Looked away. I didn't have an answer for that.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to impose. Only…" he sighed, a soft, gentle sound. "I was raised on Earth, my lady. Battle and killing… they are not victories there. Your first kill is not a milestone to be celebrated. It is blood on your hands."

His voice lowered considerably further, making me strain to hear. "And after what she did to you… you probably just want to forget it. Forget the shadows. Let them lie where she died."

I swallowed against the hard, immovable lump in my throat. And then I forced cheer back into my tone. "You're right. I want to forget her. But it's still a title of honor; and if they honor me with it, I shall honor it in return; and do what I can to live up to it."

He considered that for a long time. I turned to him. "And you don't act like a slave," I told him. It was part warning, part accusation. "No matter how friendly someone is, most slaves wouldn't talk about deeper issues like that. I don't think _any_ of them would."

He hid a smirk. "As I said, my lady," he answered, "I was raised on Earth."

I grinned. It felt plastic and false but I did it anyway. And then I turned, waving him off. "I'll see you later, Puck."

"Aye, m'lady." He bowed deeply. The gesture still rankled me, no matter who from, but from him it seemed a lot worse.

"Also, if you bow to me one more time, I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

He lifted an eyebrow, but stopped himself before he could bow again. He seemed uncomfortable, stripped of the gesture to show respect and soften any words, to make them seem more… courteous. "A-Aye… m'lady," he said, partly disconcerted, though his eyes showed no sign of surprise on this latest action.

I smiled sadly to myself as I left. I did like the kid. Whatever he said, I liked him.

It wasn't long until I had to be on earth, so I did a fast double-check on everything that I had to take with me. When that went by too quickly, I did a _slower_ double-check. Finally, I pulled off the boots, the knife, and the sweater, putting on sneakers and my typical elbow-length, black, fingerless glove to cover the scars. As I waited for Tony to open the portal from his end, my mind drifted to Loki again, as it invariably did. He hadn't spoken to me since I'd gotten up that morning, and he had no intent to speak now, which just made me… flustered. I was mad at him and he wasn't-exactly-mad at me, but he wasn't-exactly-making-things-better-either, so _my_ madness just got a little _more_ mad. I sighed heavily when I finally stepped through the portal; relationships were… complicated.

Tony saw the look on my face and spoke to me for the first time in three weeks; and he did so with a look of undisguised glee. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, his voice sugary.

"Bite me." Something caught my eye at the window, and a little frown twitched on my lip. "Everything okay?" I asked, turning to Stark. When he lifted an innocent eyebrow, I threw a thumb over my shoulder to the window, rephrasing the question. "What's Thor doing back on Earth? Isn't he supposed to be with his father?"

Tony glanced to the window to see what I'd seen. I sighed heavily, realizing that I'd have to explain the obvious. "Freak weather patterns, thunderstorm in the middle of summer, any of this ringing bells?"

"Oh," Tony said, then relaxed. "Nah," he answered after a moment. There was a wicked little grin on his face as he said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to get him to do a bit of paperwork, is all."

"Paperwork? They're making the Norse god of Thunder do paperwork?"

"S'not going so well," Tony added with much innocence, glancing to the sky as it began to rumble.

"Tell her the truth, Stark," A mildly exasperated voice said from the other end of the room. "We've hid it long enough."

I turned. "Natasha!" I said, genuinely pleased to see the spy. Surprisingly. But it had been a while; she, her partner, and Steve had been cleaning up the Earth for a long time now. But her words gave me pause. "Hid what?" I asked warily.

Both of them were silent for a moment. When Natasha saw that Stark wasn't going to answer, she said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is concerned about a growing threat."

Another one? "Sheesh, don't these guys take coffee breaks?" I asked exhaustedly. "What is it? Another alien? Maybe a radioactive mutant crocodile from the sewers? Or some lost creature at the bottom of the sea?"

"The threat, my dear Pizza Girl," Tony said- but I cut him off before he could say more.

"Stark, it has been three, maybe four years since I last delivered a pizza. You think you can drop the nickname now?"

"Never. And the threat is _you,_ my dear, and all your cheesy, pepperoni goodness."

My eyebrows shot straight up. " _Moi?"_ I demanded in mock-outrage. Natasha correctly read the sarcasm in my eyes, though Stark did not.

"Well, you and Loki," he went on, seeming partially in agreement with S.H.I.E.L.D. as he said the words. "Granted, they see the advantage here, uniting the worlds and blah, blah, blah, like you do. But the fact stands, Natalie: with you marrying him and being shipped off-planet, there is not a lot that keeps him from turning around and blowing it up the first chance he gets."

I opened my mouth. Stark immediately raised his hands, as though to stop the onslaught of insults that I was about to throw out. "I know, I know, they're the ultimate of idiots, the pinnacle of all things moron. Honestly, we don't think they're really this stupid; and heck, they seem pretty certain that Loki isn't going to do anything anymore, either. They're just covering their asses to make _sure_ of it, whether or not they're marrying you off to him."

I liked that. 'Marrying me off'. I sighed with great theatricality. "Well, that's the difference between you and I, Stark. I don't underestimate the sheer, raw, terrible _power_ of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s stupidity." I nodded to Natasha. "Present company excluded."

She smirked. "You saw this." It wasn't a question.

"No _shit_ , I saw this. I knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was gonna stir crap before _S.H.I.E.L.D._ knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was gonna stir crap." I rolled my eyes. "Look, they know as well as anyone that this 'marriage' thing is really just a political play. Loki and I don't need to get married- we don't even _want_ to get married- for a _long time._ It was just a move to make amends, unite the kingdoms, blah de blah de blah. And they _get that._ Like you said: they just need to cover themselves in case this all blows up in their faces. They're risking the fate of their _world,_ here; and no matter how 'unquestionable' my loyalty to this planet may be, these aren't people who grew up with magic. They're not going to understand my connection with Loki like we do. So, naturally, they're gonna want a little bit of a backup plan." I glanced to the sky again. "I guess that plan was Thunder-boy. Even for the Council, that was a dumb move."

Natasha snorted dryly. "They wanted to strengthen relationships with Asgard. Asked him to keep an eye on the 'new Jotun King', and said that they would do the same with you." Lightning flashed outside, lighting up her eyes. "Things didn't go so well."

I rolled my own eyes. I could imagine Thor's reaction to that, to Loki's honor being questioned, _my_ honor being questioned, _again._ After all this time and everything we'd done… But I had another question. "What about Fury? What does he say about all this?"

"Wants no part in it," Natasha answered flatly. "Basically, he said that if Loki wanted Earth dead _that_ badly, he would have left you for dead; and if _you_ wanted to betray your planet, you wouldn't have handed yourself over on a silver platter for it." I stiffened, and Natasha's cold gaze locked on me again. "Of course we know about that, Natalie," she said, before I could open my mouth to speak. "Clint said that you were planning this with Loki after Fraye offered her 'deal'. That you weighed in the numbers and made the call that saved the most; even at the cost of your own planet, your own life. And, quite frankly, we know that Loki couldn't have made that decision if you didn't let him; and that you could have just told us to throw him in prison if you didn't want him planning for it."

I swallowed tightly. "Well, way to let me know that the biggest secret of my life was, in fact, common knowledge. Thank you, Natasha. I needed that on my second day of school."

I walked towards her, as she was standing by the door. Just before I exited, she stopped me, placing a hand in front of me. "It's all right, Natalie," She said with a low voice. "If there's one thing the Council understands, it's numbers. And sacrificing the lesser number for the greater whole." Her voice was very dark as she added the last part, and whisper quiet.

"Yeah," I said, tightening the straps of my backpack. "But normal people don't. The other Avengers, the non-spies? The people who died in Loki's conquest? Their families?"

Natasha's eyes softened into a look I hated. A look of pity.

I threw off her hand and walked away in silence.

* * *

Loki was waiting for me when I came home from school that day. I wasn't sure if it was the missed-you-while-you-were-gone kind of waiting or the crouching-for-the-perfect-ambush kind. The chessboard in front of him indicated that it was a mixture of both.

I studied him, glancing to the black pieces that were set up on what would be 'my' side of the board, if I sat down in the chair opposite him, the chair closest to me as I exited the portal. The black pieces. He had the white pieces, because white always made the first move; and here he was. Making his.

I studied him for a moment, and saw him studying me. His face was apologetic enough for me to pull my arms through the straps of my pack, and determined enough that I sat myself in the chair and set the bag next to it. I pulled up to the table as he moved a pawn up a square.

Chess, we had discovered in the past few weeks, was our best way of talking things out; or really, any game that required actual thought or logic, any game that required that your opponent to not know what you would do next. It forced us to separate our minds as completely as we could: to not only keep ourselves from letting our minds slip, but also to keep each other from letting anything slip as well. Strengthening each other's walls, as it were. It was a state of mind we could only keep up for short amounts of time without feeling physically ill, but it helped us work out problems. And, realms knew, we certainly had our fair share of _those_.

I flicked a pawn forwards. Being the logically-minded, pattern seeker he was, Loki always beat me at chess. He was also known to cheat regardless of how easy the win would be, just to see if he could make the win a little bit more humiliating for me. But it was obvious that today was not going to be one of those days where he could do that and keep his limbs, so I was sure he wouldn't try anything of the sort.

We moved a few pieces out onto the board before I spoke. "I stand by what I said."

He glanced up at me, then back to the board. "I know you do." He slid a white marble knight across the board, onto a black square. "As do I."

"So what are we even doing here?" I brought a rook up into check. It was defeated easily and smoothly by the next move.

"We are here," Loki replied coolly and calmly, seeming to embody the crystal ice walls around him as he glanced up at me with brilliant red eyes. "Because you and I are engaged to be married. And if we cannot handle a simple disagreement like adults, then it may be more difficult than expected."

It was almost an attempt at humor, and I snorted. The pieces clinked against the board, marble against marble, though a majority of the damage to the stone by the pieces was softened by the soft, black material that had been attached to the base of each piece for just such a purpose.

It was quiet for another few moves. I fended off a check valiantly, but Loki's residual memories in the part of my brain that I was currently trying to stave off were telling me that I was fighting a rapidly losing battle. I sighed and fought it out; bitter to the end. He might beat me, he might do so in a humiliating fashion, but I was going to make him take the time to do it properly.

"I cannot stop myself from feeling as I do, Miss Frost," Loki said at last, breaking the silence. "There is blame for those atrocities against you on my shoulders. I gave you to Fraye. I traded you for a crown. It is my name in your skin, not hers." He sighed heavily. "But… I never intended to make you feel… inhuman." He looked up at me. "In truth, I shall never _intend_ to hurt you again."

The look in his eyes- truth, honesty, sincerity- made my harder side soften just a little. Loki put me in checkmate. There was a moment of silence before we began setting up the pieces again, the game over, lost to me and won for him.

"I'm not glass," I told him quietly as he again made the first move. "I'm not this… brittle, frail thing that you need to feel _guilty_ for. And neither of us can handle you… _self-flagellating_ all the time. I just…" A sigh slipped out of my lips. "I need things to be a little more normal. I'm not expecting all of your problems to go away overnight; I'm not expecting _any_ of _our_ problems to go away that quickly." I looked up at him. "I just want you to try and forget the guilt. Just try a _little_ harder." I sighed heavily. "I just need… normal."

"Why ask what cannot be given?" Loki inquired quietly, moving his king into castle. As I looked to him, eyebrow raised in a _your-next-statement-better-involve-some-serious-explanation-or-copious-amounts-of-flowers_ expression, he sighed quietly. "I am the adopted son of an Asgardian King: the current King of Jotunheim. By your standards, by the standards of earth, I am an alien being; an alien king of an alien world with alien politics. There is no 'normal' involved." He looked up to me, his red eyes searching. "And you…"

I sighed deeply and before he could go on, filled in, "I'm the broken little wreck of a once-human Avenger, a torture victim who fell in love with a Trickster."

His eyes held a silent admonishment as he went on, correcting me with smooth and flowing tones. "You are the hero of nine realms. The Shadowslayer and the will-be Queen of Jotunheim. By earth standards, perhaps, you no longer qualify as 'normal'." His head tilted to the side in puzzled curiosity. "But since when has Earth defined what is 'normal'? Since when is 'normal' an attainable and achieved goal on any realm?" he sighed and shook his head. "I understand that you wish to retain a part of your past life, Natalie, and by all means, retain it. It is you. But the woman sitting before me, the Avenger and Shadowslayer… is also you. Whoever you are tomorrow or five years from now will similarly be _you_. And you exist quite perfectly in _my_ 'normal'." He leaned across the table, the pieces forgotten as he placed a gentle, cold hand on my own. "Why can it not be yours as well?"

I studied him with narrowed eyes for a moment. "You make it awfully hard to stay mad at you."

He smiled weakly. I didn't smile back. I leaned forwards as well, so that our faces were a little closer. "Fine," I said firmly. "Tell you what. I'll try not to freak out too badly about being 'normal', if you try to cut yourself a little slack." I pulled my hand out from under his so that I could offer it in a handshake. "Deal?'

He surveyed it momentarily, almost reproachfully; but it was in that sly, devious way, where his eyes did their little tap-dance of sneakiness. And then he breeched the few inches between our faces, brushing his lips just lightly against mine. "Deal," he whispered there, then stood, leaving me reeling momentarily. I sorted my brain in time to see his long, thin fingers delicately clasp the white queen and slide it into place. "And checkmate," he added, almost conversationally, as he turned and walked away.

When I found myself alone in the room, I rolled my eyes. Well, that was one thing about being engaged to the Trickster: there was never a dull moment.

* * *

"Tell me that Natalie Frost is not the reason you are here."

Puck froze in the doorway, stunned just briefly into immobility by the accusation. And then he sighed quietly, closing the door behind him as he did so. "And why would you ask me that, m'lady?"

"Do not _call_ me that!" The giantess snarled. "We all know who the real 'owner' here is, so please, have the courtesy to spare me the _act!_ "

Puck turned his steady, unwavering red eyes towards the giantess in the room. She was a nervous-looking thing, but had grown even more so of late. He wished it hadn't been her. He wished that it could have been someone else. She was far too jumpy, too nervous, and above all, too clever. She could oust him. It was very difficult keeping her from doing so as it was.

He sighed quietly and sat down across from her. "You are free to end this arrangement whenever you so choose," he reminded her quietly.

She gave him a distasteful, disdainful look. "So it _is_ the Lady Frost." The words were growled out with anger, but Puck could easily see the fear in her eyes. She was scared. Terrified.

He shrugged very mildly. "I would never harm her, or our King, if that is your concern."

"Tuh!" She shouted in disbelief, turning her head to the side. Puck waited as slowly, the anger died out of her face, to be replaced with… not terror, as he expected, but exhaustion. She ran her hands down her face. "This is treason," she breathed.

"This is no such thing," Puck answered coldly. "As I said, I have no intent to harm the Lady Frost: or King Laufeyson. I intend to harm no being in this palace, or on this world."

The giantess looked up to him- her eyes traveling from the false shackles on his wrists and up to his face- and sneered. "No being except my son?"

The word sent an odd little twist of pain through him; and that pain leant fire to his eyes as he said, quite clearly, "I never harmed him. I have not even seen him, let alone hurt him."

"So you say," the giantess grumbled. Puck felt ever more stirrings of anger. He leaned forwards, closer to the giantess, somehow looming above her.

"Your son disappeared eight years ago. And, if you recall, I was not here at that time. I am only here to help you find him."

"By withholding his location until you get what you want," The giantess snarled. "Which you still have not specified. You are a liar and a spy, half-breed; why should any word from your mouth be considered truth?"

"I have already given you the proof you needed that he is alive-"

"I'm not _speaking_ of him!" the giantess screeched, leaping to her feet. Puck, though startled, did not show any emotion on his face other than raising a calculating eyebrow. "I am speaking of the Shadowslayers! If you are plotting against them and I am assisting you…" her words trailed off, and she began to tremble.

"They are, as you mentioned, Shadowslayers," Puck noted smoothly, with no real noticeable hesitation. His tone was calm and soothing, as though he were speaking to a child. In many ways, he felt as though he was. "They can most certainly handle themselves, would you not agree?"

As the woman stared at him for a long moment, Puck sighed and stood up. "The decision is, of course, yours. And I will not deny that Natalie Frost is my reason for being here. But you have my word-whether you believe in it or not- that I will not harm her; or her betrothed." He smirked just carefully. "To do so would not be entirely self-serving, after all."

And then he breezed from the room; and for a brief second, before he was outside in the world and stooping once again, the slave stood as tall as a King.

* * *

Natasha casually flipped the page of her book, fingers running delicately across the thin parchment, down the row of inkblot letters. "You're here after Natalie, and not immediately raising the alarm. Which means that this is not an emergency on Jotunheim, or that you wish to speak to her. It means you have a problem and you don't particularly want her knowing about this conversation yet." She glanced up from the book binding and up to the empty doorframe. "Is that right?"

A moment's pause after the words had been said, and then Loki breezed into sight of the doorway, a wry smile on his face. "You know, she often wonders if you simply spout statements such as this into empty rooms: just in case someone is lurking."

"I'm sure she does the same," Natasha answered coolly, slipping a bookmark between the pages and setting the book aside. She took the Trickster in at a glance, noting his Asgardian form and clothing carefully. He was attempting to look more 'human'. Which meant that he at least intended to stay on Earth for a while. "Seeing as this is the first time that you've come to Earth since your coronation, and that it's within the first few days of me being at the Tower since then, I assume your questions are for me."

Loki nodded once. Natasha gestured with one hand to the seat across from her. Though her arm had been broken only a month ago, the Asgardian Healers had done wonders; and now there was only the slightest bit of shakiness to her hand as she moved it. Loki lowered himself into his seat carefully, but said nothing. Natasha waited for a moment, then, seeing that he was unable to voice his questions, sighed and voiced them for him. Or rather, voiced one of her own, knowing that it would lead down the path to answer his. "How many?"

Loki looked up to her. Despite those four months, despite everything they had been through, the innocence in his eyes whenever he spoke of me still managed to surprise her on occasion. He sighed deeply. "Three," he answered. "Three episodes in the past five days alone." He ran his hand over his face. "They are getting worse, not better."

Natasha nodded, taking that in as she studied him, her mind naturally keeping tabs on everything; body language, gestures, the tone and volume of his words.

"She asked me to leave her be when they occur," Loki said, "And I have. Repeatedly. But they continue to get worse, and with her back at college, in the world… I have concerns."

"Understandable," Natasha answered simply. "And she of course refused to speak with anyone outside of the 'family'."

"No one, save for the Avengers," Loki confirmed. "She wouldn't even speak of it with her true family, given the opportunity."

"And she never asked for help from a therapist." At Loki's nigh-reproachful look, Natasha added, "She can't be her own."

"Speaking to any mental health facilitator outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. would spill a great many secrets, Agent Romanoff. And she certainly wouldn't trust anyone _inside_ of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I did," Natasha said quietly.

"Barton is not a viable option."

Natasha quirked a smile. "But you think I might be."

"You've assisted her before."

"I'm not a shrink."

"But you are her friend." Loki's forehead creased as his hands folded in his lap and he leaned forwards just slightly. His voice lowered. "Your opinion, your words all mean a great deal to her. She will not say as such only because she knows that you are aware of it already; but she values you highly."

"And I've done everything that I can as a friend," Natasha answered shortly. As Loki exhaled- it wasn't quite a sigh- she went on, "I can't be for her what Barton was for me; because Barton pulled me out of a bad situation. I, and the other Avengers, have all dragged her _into_ one." She shook her head, her short, red, wavy hair bouncing just slightly around her features. "I can give you advice, answer questions. But I can't pull her out of all of this. She has to do that for herself, or find someone else who can."

Loki's body posture immediately, if subtly, closed. His hands, still folded in his lap, drew closer to his body. His feet shifted, closer together. And his eyes went down.

Natasha caught it. Her eyes lit up in understanding, and she sat back, settling a little more into her chair. "Unless she already has."

Loki turned his head to the side, avoiding her eyes. It was almost as though he had screamed 'yes'. "And you don't approve," Natasha went on, her voice sounding every bit like a spider should, if a spider were given voice.

Loki swallowed as he turned back. "We do not entirely… _trust_ him."

" _Him?_ " Natasha asked, eyebrows lifting as her eyes danced and her lips fought a war with a smile. Loki immediately latched on to the deeper meaning suggested behind her words and shook his head quickly.

"He's far too young for that, Agent Romanoff," he told her, though his tone had grown a shade darker. "The equivalent of a teenager."

Natasha still looked much too amused for his liking. "Which is what she was, not too long ago; and before this life took her in and made her into what she is." She tilted her head just once, swiftly, a quirk of a gesture. "There is an appeal there."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "The idea never occurred to her. And if it had, I'm certain it would… _disgust_ her."

"You think that highly of yourself, do you?"

Just briefly, Loki wished that the two were still enemies. It would have given him an excuse to try and throw her out of the nearest window. But the thought was errant and soon under tight control. Instead of taking violent action, he tightened his folded hands, shifting them just slightly. "He is, in her eyes, more of a child to be protected than he is anything else."

Natasha noted that, her eyes on him… and then she settled back a touch. "Fair enough," She answered quietly. "But you said that you didn't trust him; and it would not be the first time that your jealousies got the better of you."

The curt, no-nonsense flow of her words cut to the quick, and Loki flinched against their sting. This much was true. But until Natasha had mentioned it, there hadn't been even the slightest hint of envy towards Puck, and there was none now. What he had said was the truth. "I said that _we_ do not trust him," Loki corrected the spy smoothly. "I myself have never met him, never laid eyes on him. It is Natalie who holds reservations."

At this, Natasha's eyebrows furrowed. Her posture became just the slightest bit tenser. "And yet he's helping her with what has happened. How can he help her if she doesn't trust him?"

Loki turned away again. This time, however, Natasha did not seem able to read the answer from this avoidance, and so he was forced to reply. "It is _because_ he helps her that she does not trust him." He looked back to Natasha. For once, the spy looked confused. No, not confused… _curious._ This was a puzzle. She wanted to fit the pieces into place. "She walks with him before she leaves for college. She has done so almost every day for a week, and intends to continue doing so. They talk. He occasionally probes deeper questions; and whenever he does, she holds no reservations until _after_ she has spoken with him." His eyes hardened. "This was much the way in which Fraye manipulated her emotions. It was only after she lost sight of the child that Natalie began to doubt her motives."

Realization dawned in Natasha's eyes, and she nodded a few times, signifying her recognition of the pattern. "And that was how she knew that you weren't everything you seemed," She filled in. "Because you said things that were too like her own past history."

"Precisely," Loki nodded. There was less of a wince with these words; that was a past so long ago forgiven by me that it was almost difficult for him to hold onto his self-hatred for it; and in the new spirit of 'cutting himself some slack', he had done what he could to let go of it.

"So she's afraid to trust this guy because she already trusts him too much," Natasha added.

"Indeed."

"So you're both being careful of him," she went on. "But at the same time, he's helping. At least, when he's around, he helps. And you don't want to lose that."

Loki considered. "I suppose it would be easiest to say that I wish for her to have something to fall back on, should this turn out… badly." He paused, then thought of something else and carried on. "I am a King now; and a King will have plots against him. It is a part of the claim of royalty; and we must see those plots everywhere." His eyes met Natasha's. "Even if she were not to hold such a position of high royalty herself in the future, it is still not unfeasible that someone may try and harm me through her; and with our minds intertwined as they are, that would not be such an altogether difficult task."

"So you want to know whether or not she should maybe try to trust him anyway."

"I cannot ask that of you. You do not know him."

"You're right. I don't. And I don't know a whole lot about this emotion-manipulating, magical BS that she's had pumped into her life for about three years now." She leaned forwards. "What I can tell you is this: if it works out, if he's copasetic, then he will become the single most invaluable friend she has."

Loki blinked. "And if not…?" He asked, wary.

Natasha leaned back. "Then get yourself a fallout shelter. Because nothing on Jotunheim will survive."

Loki rolled his eyes. "There was no need or call for theatrics, Agent Romanoff."

"You think I'm being dramatic?" Natasha's eyes sharpened abruptly. She leaned forwards. "Don't you recall your own plans, Loki?"

His eyebrows furrowed, perplexed. There was a much harder undertone in her voice now, an abrupt change. "I'll spell it out for you: A-P-R-I-L."

Loki paled.

"The last time Natalie lost something that important to her, _she_ , and that _Bubble of Death_ , almost took out New York. If her connection to you and the Tesseract hadn't been separated when Fraye had her, I doubt that even _she_ could have gotten through. She probably could've wiped out any life on-planet, if there had _been_ any life on that planet." Her entire body posture was now stern and serious. "However you play this, play it carefully. Or you might just lose that kingdom you now rule: and _she_ might just lose _you_."

Loki swallowed. The words hit hard, because they were true. And they were a factor he hadn't even truly considered. There was a threat to his kingdom.

And it was me.

The biggest threat that Jotunheim had might just be the woman who would one day be seated on its throne… and how would history remember us then?

He nodded a few times. "Of course," he said. And then, a little stiffer, "But 'playing things carefully' was always a high priority, Agent Romanoff. She is, after all, my fiancée."

That seemed to soothe a few ruffled feathers. Natasha sat back a little, lowering her voice and softening her eyes. "I know," she said, in quiet agreement.

There was a brief pause. And then Loki stood. "For the record," he said, not even entirely aware that he was using a human phrase, showing off my influence in his head, "She would not lose me. Our last battle with Fraye fused us in more ways than one: her shield now recognizes me as a part of her. It would protect me alongside her." He sighed briefly. "Not that it would matter a great deal. But it may be something useful to remember, should we ever be forced to battle beside one another again."

Natasha smirked. "We're Avengers," she reminded him. "It's all but inevitable."

He chuckled quietly and walked out the door.

* * *

"He truly said that?"

"He did!" I nodded fiercely, grinning. Puck barked out a laugh, shaking his head back and forth. "Bar none, he is the single most arrogant shit that I have ever met, and I don't care _what_ planet you're from."

We weren't in the public eye currently, but rather tucked away in one of the palace's many niches that I'd been exploring of late. So Puck was actually brave enough to look me in the face as we talked. "He sounds like an interesting character," he admitted, albeit with a sprinkling more kindness than I'd put on my words.

"I do so sincerely hope that I am not the brunt of this particular conversation," a cool, collected voice said from the other side of the room. I knew that he was there- and that he was aware that he was _not_ the aforementioned arrogant shit- but Puck seemed mildly startled; and then even more surprised by the fact that he had been startled. Maybe he was used to hearing people enter the room behind him.

Loki leaned in the doorway. It was a position that would have been most un-king-like on anyone but him; but _he_ made the relaxed look regal. As though his casual attitude was simply his way of showing that he did not fear anyone around him; and not that he did not care what they did. It just didn't seem to matter if someone tried anything or not; it was a bit of a conceited grace and regality, but damn if he hadn't earned the right to it. He acted like he didn't feel threatened by anyone for the simple reason that he _didn't._ Any threat to him was a cakewalk after Fraye.

"You're not," I promised my fiancée sweetly. "I was actually talking about Stark."

That seemed to spark a little more of a good mood, though we both knew it was false, for we both knew that he was already aware of this as well. "Well then, by all means, talk away."

Puck's eyes had lowered to the ground again, and again he was shaking. It was the first time Loki and he had met; and that was because it was the first time that Loki had decided that they should. Loki didn't bother with the formality of introducing himself or of asking the slave's name.

"And you are Puck."

Puck swallowed tightly. I could see the gesture in his face as his hands clenched at his sides. He did not seem particularly afraid, nor particularly angry; the same way he had seemed when we had first met. He bowed, low and deep, and looked upset that he was in a bad position to kneel; otherwise he might have been on one knee. "Aye, your majesty."

I wanted to roll my eyes-in fact, Loki did too- but it _was_ the proper 'respectful' gesture to the king; and he, like me, had given up on chastising people for it. The only person I still threatened with physical injury whenever they bowed was Puck; everyone else merely carried on. Well, everyone but Sigil and Avalon, who only bowed whilst in the public eye or when they were saying something particularly offensive. Loki had quickly learned, within his first day of ruling, just how invaluable and indispensable the twins had made themselves to the king. If they wanted, they could parade around the palace in their underwear, holding up signs that said "Die Loki Die," and he probably couldn't touch them. It made them into powerful enemies, if we ever got on their bad side. And we invariably would; the twins didn't have much of a 'good' side. Though I liked them. They were fun to have around. Like a cobra; keep it behind some inch-thick glass, and we're completely copasetic.

Puck, on the other hand… well, I still wasn't sure what to make of _him._ Loki didn't seem entirely certain either; but when I poked at his head to see what he was feeling, he threw up a wall to keep me out. It was flimsy- all of our walls were these days- and another poke could have broken it down, but I didn't bother. Clearly he wanted to figure things out for himself right now.

Loki didn't say anything particularly friendly in response. In fact, his only reply was a cold, hard, "Interesting."

He settled back a bit, again leaning on the wall as he appraised the half-breed. "Raised on Earth?"

"Aye, your majesty."

"And your mother was the human, correct?"

"Aye, your majesty."

This was unnecessary. He knew as much; and I suspected that Puck knew that he knew. But it was opening the path to other questions; ones that I had never asked. "Your mortality."

For the first time, Puck looked up. It was in surprise, and he glanced down soon afterwards. "My m-mortality, your majesty?"

"Aye."

"What… what of it, your majesty?"

"Simply put, do you share your mother's mortality, or your father's immortality?"

That was something that I hadn't even considered. My stomach twisted. This kid could actually be a _human-_ aged teen, not a Jotun one. His mother could have not died of old age, as I'd suspected, but rather in an accident, or something grimmer. I swallowed tightly.

But Puck answered a moment later. "I would assume my father's, sir."

"You 'assume'?"

"It appears as such," Puck answered. "But there is no way to be certain. There are few other Half-Breeds as reference."

I felt the worry stirring inside of Loki's chest and, for the first time, realized why he was traveling down this line of questioning. My heart stuttered once; even if we solved the issue of my own mortality, what about my child? If I had any. It was now a consideration that perhaps I should not.

It made my throat feel thick. Loki changed subjects smoothly. "Because few other Half-Breeds survive."

"Aye, your majesty."

"And you only did so because your mother kept you on Earth, correct?"

"Aye, your majesty."

Puck was still in his bow. I nudged Loki in the arm with my elbow, pointing it out in our minds. He nodded, and I said, "Kid, straighten up. You're gonna throw out your back."

The slave looked up warily. When Loki made no mention of disapproval, he slowly straightened, but he kept his eyes on the ground. Loki's questioning resumed mere seconds later.

"So you have a human form? Something that made you seem like another Midgardian, kept your true nature out of sight?"

"Aye, your majesty."

"And it concealed your height, I assume." Loki glanced at Puck. He was far taller than the Trickster. At his current height, he could never have passed for human.

"Aye, your majesty." Sheesh, the kid was a broken record.

"Mere illusion?"

"N-No, your majesty." Okay, maybe not.

Loki arched a perfect eyebrow. "Oh?"

Puck kept his eyes on the ground. "I… Neither form is illusion. I can now adopt one or the other at will, but, as a child… I had no control. Either one was… me."

He seemed very reluctant to pass on this piece of information-and I could see why, it was one of those 'touchy' subjects that could get him killed- but what could he do? Refuse to answer his king?

Again, after a few nods, Loki's only response was, "Interesting."

And then he turned to me. I blinked as he switched languages, falling into Spanish: it was our usual language of choice when we wished to hide things from Asgardian or Jotun ears. "There is something…" He glanced at Puck and sighed. "Be cautious," he warned at last. "And we shall speak of this later."

I nodded. His hand wrapped around mine, a gesture unseen by the slave, and he squeezed it once before nodding a farewell to Puck and exiting the room.

Puck only managed to peer up a minute or so after Loki had gone. And then he relaxed, letting out a breath that I'm sure he wasn't aware he was holding. I grinned. "He grows on you."

"I'm certain, my lady," he said, as kindly as he could manage in his worried and wearied state. I just grinned again.

* * *

Loki was quiet. He'd been quiet for a long time now. He'd returned from his duties and I hadn't had school (it was a weekend) and so we had been spending time with each other for a while now. But he still hadn't brought up the elephant in the room: Puck.

I was working on a sketch-one of the bazillion outfits that I occasionally toyed with, in the hopes that one day, maybe, I might be brave (or stupid) enough to suit up and charge around the streets with the other superheroes- when the wait finally became intolerable. I slammed my pencil down on the table and looked up to Loki. "You _aren't_ jealous, are you?" I asked, exasperatedly. I'd learned of his conversation with Natasha quite quickly; and her worry had soon escalated into a worry of mine.

Loki gave me a sharp look. "Of course not," he answered with a blatant, brusque sincerity that made me feel a little warmer inside. I pulled back a little on the hostility.

"So what's your problem with him?"

"My problem, my dear," Loki answered, his tone flat and smooth, the still surface of a pond. "Is that _you_ have a problem." His eyes flicked up from the open tome in front of him. He was off the throne but still at work, some days studying the law of his new world, some days focusing on magic; more specifically, trying to learn the nature of the magical 'attack' we'd had a few days earlier. The circle of empty devastation. He preferred studying this, though other magical strains frequently distracted him.

"And…?" I prodded as his eyes went back to the pages. Because if there wasn't something else wrong, he would have discussed it with me by now.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a resigned sigh. "And there is something intensely wrong with that slave."

I knew it. I knew that this was true. I knew that something was horribly _off_ about him.

But that didn't stop it from hurting nonetheless.

The idea that there was something 'wrong' with Puck, that he was anything more or less then what he said he was, did not _fit_ into my perception of the universe. It stung. It hurt way more than it should, and it made me even more nervous: because not even Fraye had made me feel that strongly. Not when she wasn't around. When I'd found out that Fraye was the 'bad guy', I'd forgotten pretty quickly that we had ever been friends. At the time, I'd put it down to the fact that I'd always been suspicious of her, even from the second I'd met her; but I'd always been suspicious of Puck, too. And this _hurt._ There was nothing wrong with Puck. How could there be?

But Loki's appraisement of the half-breed was brutal, ruthless, and relentless. Because I'd wanted it to be. I'd wanted it to be honest. "Even if there was not an incredible excess of power inside of him, there is still something horrifically _vile_ about him; something that simply… _rebels_ against his surroundings." Loki met my gaze evenly. "You've sensed it without realizing it; a core, animal instinct that warns you away. But some other instinct, something _stronger,_ has been pulling you towards him." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I cannot _begin_ to fathom how. There is no magical manipulation; something that strong would leave traces. I would have sensed it. Sigil, Avalon: _they_ would have sensed it. He is not manipulating your emotions through magic; at least, not as far as I can tell. But you were right to be wary. In many ways, you would be more right to fear him."

" _Fear_ him?" I asked, abruptly aghast. But Loki simply nodded once.

"As I said; magically, there is something very… wrong, with him. I wish there were a better, more accurate term, but there simply isn't. He doesn't…"

"Feel right," I filled in. Loki sighed.

"By all magical senses, no. It is almost as though…"

"As though what?" I asked, my words more scathing than I'd intended. Loki, however, did not flinch away from them. Instead, he met my eyes. And, after a moment's pause, he answered, "As though he should not exist, Frost."

I gritted my teeth, looking down. It took me a long while to process that. My hands clenched. And when my words came out, they had inhaled the entire icy realm of Jotunheim, the very shadowed heart of Fraye; for they were darker and colder than glaciers and darkness combined. "Because he's a half-breed." My eyes glinted as I looked at Loki from under my eyebrows. "Is that it?"

Loki gave me a withering, reproachful glare in response. "You know that is not the case, Frost."

"Isn't it?" I growled.

The Trickster rolled his red eyes. "Don't be childish, Natalie. It does not become you." At the mulish look on my face, he leaned forwards, his face set in a stern expression. "After all this time, do you truly think so little of me? After what you've done and all that you've shown me and all that you have proven about mortals and immortals alike, I am hardly going to hold it against him that he was born with half-human heritage. By realms, Frost, _my_ children would be the same, would they not?"

The words 'my children' shivered through me and suddenly, unexpectedly, split the air between us. They were said in the heat of the moment, with nothing to temper or restrain them, with no thought given to how they would sound until they were said. We hadn't even discussed kids, though it seemed that everyone around us always did. For crying out loud, we weren't even married yet: and we were already doing _that_ more quickly than a sane, rational being would. I looked down. A moment later, so did Loki. I felt my face began to burn. But the problem was, I couldn't help but imagine it. Couldn't help but imagine being a mother. Couldn't help but imagine Loki being a father. My face burned even redder, and my cheeks began to twitch as I did everything I could to keep from smiling. It wasn't exactly a bad imagining.

But the world was too hectic and crazy to even consider having kids yet. Granted, I was living life for every second since Fraye, because I felt that, at every second, I could be swept away from life for good. That was (in part) why I'd gotten engaged so quickly. It was why I wasn't holding a lot of my old grudges; like with my father. But I still wanted a little more _stability_ in my life before I turned it upside down and backwards once again. And kids… even _thinking_ about kids, would do just that.

Loki most certainly sensed the awkwardness that his statement had put into the air; and he was feeling it too, I was certain. He looked down, and might have blushed under the blue skin. After a long, very weighted silence, he attempted to cover his tracks with a few hasty words. "If… If we were to ever… if we decided to…"

"I'm game." I cut in, slapping my hands against the table that separated us. The words were abrupt and sudden and startled Loki a bit. And then he looked at me, mystified. "What?" I asked, leaning back a touch in my chair. "You know my stance on family life, you know that's what I've always wanted. Someday, in the future- the far future, mind- I'd like to have kids. There, I said it. Not taking it back, either."

As usual, my bluntness- though it made it worse for a brief second- eased the tension between us. It was something that Loki used to hate about me, but it had slowly grown into one of his favorite things about me. Because there was no lie to it, no guile, no underhanded dealings and no ulterior motives. I said what I meant.

A little half-smile made an appearance on his face; and I took that as a cue to continue. "It's not like we don't think far ahead into the future anyway. I mean, we're already planning about what to do to keep me from dying: and I'm only twenty-two. So yeah: you're a king, and people are going to expect you to have an heir someday. I'm not going to disillusion myself of that. And regardless of them and their opinions, I'd like to have kids. So if you do, too… then okay."

Loki watched me for a moment with that old, bemused, half-sad-half-smiling look of his. "And what I would not give to let you have them. To let you be happy." He sighed quietly, looking down. "But do you think that they would thank us, Frost? The children of two monsters, born into a world where many secretly hate them? Where even more shall continually plot against them?" he looked to me, his eyes suddenly very tired. "You have seen what damage this political world can cause, the constant struggle for a throne. I would not wish that on an enemy, let alone my own son."

"Or daughter." I had to put in. He shot me a look, and I sighed deeply. "Understandable," I acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't give them a chance."

"I would agree," Loki said, but his voice was still very quiet, and he was still not looking at me. "However, there are other matters to consider."

And just like that, we were really talking about kids. I felt shaky; this was the sort of thing that smart people discussed _before_ marriage, it was true, but it still felt… odd to do so. Again with the whole 'we'd-only-really-been-an-official-couple-for-a-little-more-than-a-month-now' thing. It made everything complicated and weird. "Like what?" I asked Loki, doing everything I could to keep my mind open and on-task. We had to discuss this rationally. Reasonably. Not to let our emotions get in the way.

He looked at me for a long, difficult moment, struggling with his words. Finally, however, he had them. "There is the matter of whether or not it's… possible."

My eyebrows shot straight up. Was he just trying to find reasons, here? "Of course it is. I mean, Puck…"

Loki held up a hand, stopping me. "That is not what I meant."

I blinked. We so rarely misunderstood each other; most of the time our thoughts followed the same path, traveled along the same routes. Loki sighed, pressing his fingertips together and looking down at his hands. "It is not a concern of whether or not a human and a giant could have a child. It is a concern of whether your particular… _gifts_ would allow it."

It took me a moment. Then I got it; and I went pale. "The nanos."

He sighed quietly and gave a few shallow nods. "They are programmed to keep you healthy, well. To heal whatever injuries are in their capacity to heal, and to… eradicate any foreign elements."

"Which they might view a pregnancy as, because they're prototypes, and because Tony was expecting them to work with spies and _not_ pregnant women." The sigh I sighed came from somewhere deep inside of me, at the base of my stomach and somewhere in the bleaker parts of my heart. It was heavy, pressing a great deal of weight onto my shoulders, and I slumped, resting my elbows on the desk and my forehead against my palm heels. "Because I had to get whatever superpowers I have at a cost, didn't I?" I asked bitterly. "It couldn't be _simple._ Couldn't be _easy._ "

"You have more than paid any price that those abilities might have cost, Natalie," Loki said, amazingly gently, reaching forwards and taking my hand as though it were made of glass. And though I usually got pissed for that, right now I needed it. Because right now, for the first time, I _felt_ like glass. I looked up at him exhaustedly. "It is still only a theory. It is possible that we are wrong. That Stark took it into account."

"Stark doesn't usually take the needs of others into account," I reminded him with a trace of acid. Loki smirked.

"True enough. But technology is one thing that he knows."

I slouched onto one hand, moving it down from my forehead so that I could lean against it. "But you have other concerns."

It was an even longer silence then before, which made my stomach twist with anxiety. He'd obviously given this more thought than I had; and he had all the reasons why this was a bad idea. And if the next one was even worse, then I wasn't sure I could take it. But I had to. I had to know; so that we could fix it if possible and accept it if not.

"What if they are mortal, Frost?"

The words were quiet and filled with silent dread. As I looked up at Loki, he did not look back, and I realized that his hand in mine was shaking just slightly. "It is one thing that I will be forced to lose you; and I can barely abide by that. I _cannot_ abide by that." His expression grew more pained, and he closed his eyes tightly, screwing them shut. "But would you sentence me to that? Sentence me to watching my children, possibly my _grandchildren,_ die, again and again, whilst I live on? If I was forced to see every last trace and remnant of you obliterated, time and time again, all with that silence still in my mind… And who knows what kind of telepathic link they might share, what parts of my mind they might carve out when they went…!"

"Loki!" I cut him off sharply. His eyes opened, looking to me, pained and childlike. I took the hand that I still held and leaned across the table a little so that I could press his palm against my cheek without stretching his arm past its limit. For a long time, I held his gaze with mine, not bothering to search his eyes but letting him search mine, letting him remember that I was still here, that his mind was still whole, that everything was still all right.

He trembled a little longer, but, gradually, that slowed. I looked him in the eye and I said things as sincerely as I possibly could.

"Okay," I promised in a soft tone, as reassuring as I could make it. Many years as an official-and-unofficial 'shrink' had helped me in that regard. "Okay. All right. Unless we can be absolutely _certain_ that they'd be immortal… we won't have kids." I kissed his palm gently. "All right?"

He watched me for a long time. And then, sighing deeply, he nodded. I smiled weakly and was about to release his hand when he promised in a soft voice, "I would." There could be no doubting the honesty in his tone, the sincerity in his features. "If we could be certain… then I would."

I smiled softly, even as the brilliant, vividly colored images of Loki as a father and myself as a mother faded into grey in my mind. Even as the dream became whitewashed and watered down to its barest dregs of hope. "I know," I told him, closing my eyes. I didn't bother to let go of his hand as I'd intended, but rather rested my face against it a little more. "We'll figure it out, Loki. I mean, we got this far."

He chuckled ruefully at the raw truth of that statement. After all, we had far from started out the way we were. Somehow, down our travels as enemies, disagreeing on everything, on every core belief, we had ended as this. It was a long, hard road and we had both gained much and lost more: gained friends and family and abilities we never had before… but lost friends as well, lost parts of ourselves and parts of our sanity and we'd twisted and changed and contorted, but we always managed to figure out a way to make those contortions fit with the other person. We got where we were and we got there together and so everything would be okay. We could figure things out.

After a long time, I let his hand slip away, and for a while we returned to what we were doing before. My sketch became more detailed and Loki once again returned to his studies of magic. It was a long time before conversation began again; and when it did, it was back on-topic.

"So…" I said slowly. "About Puck…"

Loki sighed quietly, lifting his head up. He studied me. "You truly care for him."

"The only reason he's given me not to trust him is that I _do_ trust him," I pointed out.

"That was the only reason I gave. The only reason Fraye gave. It was enough at the time."

I sighed through my nose. "So… what? Magically, he feels… off. Other than that, what's the problem?" It was, again, a rational question. Carefully reasonable, with no emotional influence whatsoever. "You said something about… power."

Loki lifted his eyebrows. Then he straightened entirely, no longer hunched over his book, pressing his spine against the chair. "I did," he agreed. "It appears that his human heritage did not dilute the magical ability he held from his father's bloodline. If anything, it strengthened it. With proper time and training, Puck could easily become the most powerful mage in Jotunheim."

He said this with such an even tone and flat affect that I blinked at him. I would have expected more… envy, to be honest.

"Are you surprised?" Loki inquired.

"A little. I wouldn't have expected…"

"Of course not. He is a slave. That time and training are not things that he shall ever be entitled to, unless his master should decide to give it to him, and that is unlikely." He sighed heavily. "It is rather unfortunate. Power such as that should not be wasted."

It was then that it clicked; the reason why he wasn't jealous of Puck's magical talent. Not because he was a slave and thus could never use it anyway, that would be petty: but because, "You admire him. You admire that kind of power."

"Magic is an art, and he has the talent for it," Loki agreed, a trace wistfully. "But even the most skilled painter cannot create a masterpiece without the proper tools." He shook his head, sighing contemplatively. "Regardless of whatever is wrong with him, whatever magic that has been placed on him to make him seem so out of place with the rest of the universe, he could have been great, if this world only valued magical strength over the physical." He rolled his eyes. "But brute force will always be valued over cunning; and Puck will always been seen for stature and for blood; not for power."

I blinked. And then my head tilted to the side. "You liked him, too, didn't you?"

Loki's teeth glinted as they showed at the corner of his lip, a smile that looked almost fanged.

I snickered. "It's not just about power. You thought he was a good kid."

"It seems that a part of me may well be entrapped by the same influence you are: whatever it is that draws you to the half-breed… it is possible that it may have affected me as well." He frowned. "Which is why I worry. If it _were_ magic, and it were being used against me, I should have detected it." He sighed deeply. "But, as I said, he is very powerful… and for all we know, fully trained in that power."

"If he was," I pointed out, "Wouldn't he have been able to cover that? To make sure that you couldn't tell how powerful he was?"

"Which is why none of it makes sense," Loki answered with a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face. "Nothing about the half-breed makes sense. He is powerful to a fault but bound in chains. He should not exist, and yet he is before my very eyes. He should not be trained and yet he has managed to fool my magical senses and wreak havoc on your emotions. I do not trust him, Frost; but it is not for these reasons. It is for yours. Because he made you trust him far too quickly." He draped his arm over the table. "Be cautious, Frost. I know that you cannot separate entirely from him at this time, but show restraint. Watch your words around him, and do not let him take hold of your life. If he begins to, step away. That is all I can say. The only advice I can give."

We were quiet. And then I looked down, picking at my nails. "That makes sense," I muttered. The words 'I guess' were not said, but they were heavily implied.

Loki tried not to say more. He really did. But the miserable look on my face _made_ him speak. Reaching forward again, he took my hand. "His is not Fraye, Natalie."

I looked to him. His eyes were kind and filled with understanding. Because of course he understood me, he understood everything about me: because I was him, and he was me. He knew that all of these things that were wrong with Puck had me thinking about what had happened with Fraye; and I could not handle another Fraye in my life. Not anymore. Not after last time.

"He may be very powerful. He may be a mage of high caliber. He may even be lying to you, a traitor to you. But that is the worst he can do to you: lie. He is still naught but another Jotun; half-breed or not, he will never hold Fraye's power. He will never hold her strength. And I greatly doubt that he will hold her twisted viewpoint of the world, her degree of sadism. If he is a liar, then he will be found out and imprisoned. If he tries to harm you or I, then he will soon learn that 'Shadowslayer' is more than a name; and that we have faced far worse than he." He smiled at me gently. " _I_ am a Jotun, Frost, and a powerful mage besides: and you managed to render me helpless without assistance from the Avengers. And now you and I are together. Should he ever turn on you… the worst he can do is threaten."

I smiled at him. It was a little smile, but it was heartfelt and unreserved. Then I leaned forwards on my arms, across the table, so that I was a little closer to him. "You know, I actually think I love you from time to time. I must be coming down with something." I grinned swiftly, standing, closing my sketchbook. The picture would have to wait until tomorrow: I kissed Loki goodbye on the cheek and headed out of the room, to the bed. I knew it would be a while before he could tear himself away from his studies and go to sleep himself, but that was all right. I still curled up in the darkness, flaring my glow, and slept soundly.

* * *

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty, _pretty_ please?" I batted my eyelashes at Loki. He frowned.

"No."

I jutted my lower lip out and adopted my best baby voice, adding just the slightest, barest, little itty-bittiest hint of a whine. "But I wanna."

That might have earned a smile on a better day. Not today. "No."

"Pweeese, Woki?"

"Frost, if you ask one more time, I swear I will throw you in the nearest dungeon."

I blinked, kicking my legs back and forth as I held my hands braced on the counter I sat on. "Well that's not really conducive to a healthy relationship," I noted, still in my kiddy voice. When he did not respond, but instead carried on packing-weapons, mostly, quick and fairly 'trivial' stuff- I went on, "Besides, you couldn't throw me in a dungeon."

He paused long enough to lean over me, placing his hand on the wall nearby so that he held me trapped as he loomed over me. Sitting on the counter like I was, I actually reached his height, but did not surpass it. Loki moved in a few inches, almost threateningly. "I am a king. I do as I like."

I gave him my best fanged smile. I was getting rather good at it, and, playful or not, it actually creeped Loki out a little bit (not that he'd admit it for even a second). "And I am your girlfriend. Which means that I can do worse."

His eyes narrowed. I held his gaze with innocent eyes but a dangerous smile.

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?" He asked, his voice still hard-edged.

"Not in this century, no. Problem with that?"

He considered, his eyes still thin slits as he watched me. "You have two minutes to be ready, or we leave without you."

"Yay!" I said, mostly ironically, and bounced off the counter, almost landing on his toes. Instead, I deftly avoided his feet and ducked under his arm with ease when he tried to catch me. I started towards where I kept my boots and cape. Because I looked badass in a cape, and it was surprisingly warm (which was always an advantage on Jotunheim). Loki sighed in exasperation.

"It will not be altogether exciting, Frost," he warned me. "It is little more than an over-glorified patrol. Trivial enough that the king himself should not be there; let alone his betrothed."

I rolled my eyes, bounding up to him. It had taken me a total of thirty seconds to get ready, as we'd both known it would. I'd had most everything ready as it was. "But you want to be there, because things seem off to you, and thus, _I_ want to be there."

"It may not be taken well," he warned. "That the planet's greatest defenders seem so overly concerned over…"

"Border patrol?" I filled in, blinking wide eyes. He scowled and ruffled my hair just before I pulled it into its usual business-style ponytail.

"In essence, yes."

"But come on, Loki, I've been cooped up for days. Here and college, here and college, here and college: it's all very monotonous." As he gave me a look, I leaned against him and said, with all the emphasis that I could manage, "I'm _bored,_ Loki. This is your new planet, and I haven't even had a chance to explore it yet!" I pulled back to place my hands on my hips, giving a little pout. "S'not really fair, is it?"

"You are entirely without hope. I give up on you and your kind for the rest of eternity."

I grinned, walking past him, "Come on, then. Time to butcher whatever's left of that hope by totally humiliating you in front of everyone you know." My tone was light and chipper, and I took his hand as I walked, intending to pull him along. He, however, refused to be pulled; and merely pulled back, carefully twirling me around to face him again and tugging a little harder than strictly necessary, so that, when I stopped moving, I was a little _closer_ to him than strictly necessary.

"There is one condition to your release from this room," he warned me.

"Too late! No take-backs!"

"It is one that you will approve of," he told me delicately, but with much self-confidence.

"Oh?"

"Aye." He turned away from me- trailing his hand down my arm as he did so, giving me goose bumps- and walked towards the other end of the room. "It involves two of your favorite things," he said, pleasantly as ever, but I knew the jab was coming, that he was just setting it up. He pulled something out from behind a shelf near the counter that I'd been sitting on; a very large object, wrapped up in cloth and string. "Gifts…" he said, setting the object down and pulling the string back, opening the cloth carefully as I walked up next to him to see it. "And shiny objects," he added with an overly-sweet little smile in my direction. I would have slugged him in the arm… but damn, the thing _was_ shiny. And it utterly took my breath away.

I reached forwards, gently running my fingers across the metalwork. The armor was intricate yet simple. Mostly functional, with a pattern of the Celtic-like knots that I'd found so beautiful since the very first time I'd come to Asgard. But the patterns were not strictly Asgardian, and there was a very heavy Jotun influence everywhere else. I swallowed.

"Loki…" I said slowly, breathlessly. "Are you serious?" I looked at him. It was a simple silver shoulder plate, meant for the upper arm only, as I'd seen many Jotuns wearing; but more often those of high status.

Loki refused to smile at the expression on my face, no matter how much his lips rebelled. He cleared his throat and made a serious effort to make his features expressionless again; and even rolled his eyes a little to cover it. "Come along, Frost," he said, carefully unfastening my cape so that he could attach the metal armor to my shoulder. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. "I cannot allow my subjects to think that their will-be Queen is some delicate creature, meant to be locked away in this room until her mortality slips past. You would kill everyone who thought as much; and then I would be left without a kingdom."

I grinned slyly at him as he finished helping me to fasten it. It was certainly a bold fashion statement; and took me all of a few seconds to recognize where the pattern of knots along its edges had come from. I carefully took Loki's hand, pulling his sleeve back to reveal the Key on his wrist. Though it was now useless, and mine had been removed, it was Loki's one willing scar: Odin had intended to remove it on Loki's return to prison, before he had been offered the crown, and Loki had politely refused. The Key would never restrain him again; but he still kept it, in case he needed it to do so regardless of whether it still had the power to. The armor's borderline was ever-so-clearly patterned after it. He raised both eyebrows, clearly noting that I had recognized it, and I released his hand with a casual smirk.

"It's a little on the worthless side though, isn't it?" I asked, rolling my shoulder. For armor, it was light. For a tank, it was heavy. "No real point to it, really; if I do fight, I'm not going to be fighting with more… ah, _conventional_ weaponry now, am I?"

"True," he agreed. "But it makes a statement."

He brushed past me. I rolled my eyes, still smiling slyly. "Oh, it tells _me_ something quite clearly." I turned to him, even though I was only facing his back. "It tells me that you, in fact, _wanted_ me with you on this little excursion of yours."

He turned back to me and gave me a fanged grin to match my earlier one. "That was ever in doubt?"

I skipped up to him and linked my hand in his. "Not really, no," I answered. He chuckled softly and pulled me into his side just briefly before we moved on.

We met the rest of our party- consisting of only Steprin and four other members of the king's guard- at the designated area. They were all armed and clearly ready to go; and while there were a few curious glances in my direction, no one questioned the king. The Shadowslayers were a dual package; we had most of our strengths only with each other. And it was high time everyone who didn't already know that now learned.

Loki immediately paired me with the scout- a somewhat wiry Jotun named Sile, who said little- knowing that I would want to take a lead on all this. Everyone but Steprin seemed to wish to question this choice; scouts, after all, were the first into any battle, and could easily be killed. But Loki knew that I was nothing if not careful, that our link would ensure that we had eyes with both groups, and that if he hadn't paired me with the scout, I would've just run ahead of everyone anyway.

Our task was, as we'd already established, mostly an over-glorified border patrol. The last group had reported minor signs that _may_ have pointed to an intruder in this area of the planet, and may have not. Loki, however, had found it worth checking out, and so, after a brief journey through the city-in which we all got a number of stares and I did my best to proudly flaunt my new look without seeming overly conceited and shallow- we were out in the ice and snow.

Sile, like every giant, was big. But I gave him this: he was a lot more silent in the snow than I managed to be. I tried to follow his footsteps, even going to far as to step in his footprints, and though it helped a little, I quickly learned that he simply had a talent for being quiet. But, after the first tense half an hour of scouting, he quickly relaxed, falling into an easy pattern; and while his footsteps remained utterly silent, I knew that he'd be a little more open to talking; if we kept it to whispers. I knew, of course, because he talked.

Loki and the other four giants were far behind us-bare specks in the snow- when Sile abruptly halted. He froze, holding up a hand to indicate that I should do the same. Maybe a proper queenly figure would have been insulted by the gesture, but I knew better than that. In the field, in a battle, the difference between a commanding hand gesture and a polite, smooth-toned suggestion could get you killed; and I wasn't stupid enough to care about smooth-toned suggestions in normal life, either. So I halted behind him, making sure that I was in his peripheral vision as I did so, so that he'd be aware that I had done as he'd instructed. We fell into a battle pattern easily; as only those who have actually been in battle can do.

He listened carefully for a moment, and I did the same… and then he took a hesitant step forward. Another step.

And then his dark blue hand flashed towards the snow, quick as lightning, striking the white beneath our feet at its uphill slant. I barely had time to register it before he pulled his hand back and relaxed a great deal, holding something small, pale white, and moving in his hand.

He turned, holding it out to me. I recognized the creature immediately, though neither Loki nor I had ever seen one up close: only in the pages of books. An animal of Jotunheim, as every world has its own. It was white, so as to blend in with the snow around it, but had eyes as bright and vivid red as any Jotun's. The white skin and red eyes gave it the appearance of some of Earth's albino rodents- rats, mice, hamsters, and the like- and indeed, it appeared to be some kind of rodent… a rodent about as big as my hand. It fit perfectly on the Giant's palm, but if I were to hold it, it might have just taken both hands. It made little _ritt_ noises of protest at the strange hand it now sat on. It was hairless, but it had skin like thick leather; almost like an elephant's. I blinked a few times.

"A tilth," Sile informed me quietly, his watchful red eyes scanning the horizon. "There will be more."

"Travel with the family, right?" I recited what I knew, taking it gently from his hand and onto mine. It immediately burrowed inside of my long sleeve and crawled up my arm. It started to tickle when it reached the crook of my elbow, and I pushed it down a bit. It dragged thin little nail-claws down my arms that weren't thick or sharp enough to leave scratches. It stayed at my forearm following my push down, burrowing where it was warm. "Groups of ten to twelve?"

Sile glanced back, looking mildly impressed but not a great deal. "Fifteen, more often," He answered simply. "Keep an ear out; we don't want them raising a false alarm."

I nodded; that was why he'd pointed out the creature in the first place. We didn't want to freak out over something so small, so pointless and normal. Save the freak outs for when we had something to freak out over. I pulled the tilth out of my sleeve and tried to set it back in the snow; it had none of that. It climbed up my sleeve-not under it this time- and was at my shoulder before I could stop it, burrowing next to my neck. Sile was concealing a smile.

"It seems attached to you, Lady Shadowslayer," he said, not without a hint of irony. At least he was bold enough to be ironic. I rolled my eyes.

"It likes being warm," I corrected, tapping the little creature on the nose and almost getting my finger bitten. But I had a dog at home and cat with a particularly nasty temper. I was used to animal bites.

"It will leave you soon," Sile concluded, then turned around. He was right. The tilth's 'family' group showed up a while later, and it dropped off my shoulder, landing almost gracefully in the snow. The air was more relaxed between Sile and I from that point on, my nerves less taut.

We carried on for a while, waving Loki and his group forwards on occasion; or I would inform him through our heads. The silence was comfortable and clear as crystal, and it felt wonderful. The snow muffled everything, and ruined though the planet may have been by the war that had happened so long ago, it still held a frosted-over beauty that I couldn't help but drink in. Beauty, I found, was a rare commodity in life. Take it in while you can. It may vanish before your eyes; but it may be all that sustains you in the biter ugliness that follows.

There were other creatures on Jotunheim, outside of all palace and city walls, that Sile occasionally pointed out to me. Once or twice, I saw them first; and that was when I truly began to impress him. Not many could do that, I presumed. But you spend four months with Fraye, having your sight cut off through the darkness and not knowing where the next attack will come from, and you learn to use your other senses pretty well; and you have a pretty iron-clad grip on your surroundings at all times.

We had just waved the others forwards again when I said, "To your left."

Sile immediately stiffened. No matter how many false alarms we'd had, he still seemed alert and tensed for every one of them. It was no great surprise to me when he said, "Nothing," but neither of us relaxed for a moment.

When we finally did, he half-smiled at me. "You have quite a talent for this, Lady Shadowslayer: you occasionally even see things which are not ther-"

He was cut off when something large, furry, and with enormous teeth barreled straight towards us.

We immediately fell into defensive, ducking to the side as gleaming white teeth snapped at my ear. It moved so quickly that it got close enough to cut a few strands of hair with that particular bite, and as I danced to the side, my heart began to pound. Loki was immediately running forwards to our aid, the others close behind though many tried to surpass him. I flared my shield, forced it into life, and tried to survey the creature before me. It wasn't possible; it moved too quickly. I caught sight of an almost-canine muzzle that seemed more like a Shadow Hound than a real one, but that was all. It was too light-coated to be a Shadow Hound, though; its fur not made from shadows. The similarities, however, were there, and I could not shake the image from my mind as I brought a blow to its sides.

It was away from my reaching shield in a few quick steps, growling and snarling. Sile emerged on the other side, brandishing an ice mace and bringing it down to plunge against the creature's head. It turned to snap at him as I went for its legs, causing enough pain to distract it whilst Sile got his blow in. The ice shattered around its skull, but it seemed only mildly affected, stumbling back on four legs and whimpering just slightly.

It was a fast battle; the thing definitely had a knack for speed. I couldn't get a read on it, couldn't quite tell _what_ it was. It was only a few moments later, when Loki crested the hill that separated us and saw everything from a better angle, that I could catch sight of the full creature that was working so hard to kill me.

Loki paused when his breath caught. _Fenrir?_

The word sent a flood of old memories through me; Loki's memories, things that I remembered because of him, but couldn't have remembered without seeing the full creature. Immediately, Loki told me, _Frost, don't kill him! He's a friend!_

 _Tell_ _ **him**_ _that!_ I snapped in return, but I moved my aim from the throat to his chest and pulled back on my blow. I probably shouldn't have; the animal gripped my shield at my head, lifting me bodily off the ground. I had to expand the shield to force him to release me; though on a better day I would have simply sharpened it and sent a point straight through his throat.

I kept my eye on Sile as the creature- Fenrir- whirled around to drag enormous claws down his back. I stopped him by ducking beneath his stomach and bringing a sharp edge of my force field across his stomach. It might not have been a Shadow Hound, and was not quite so big, but there were ways in which they were precisely the same. And that was always one of my favorite tactics on them; though there was not quite so much room to fight beneath him. I had to roll out of the way before he sat on me and crushed the life out of me. Teeth clacked near my ear and I rolled again, getting to my feet a short distance away.

The creature charged, its eyes gleaming in hate. It had amber eyes, a simple gleaming iris in a pool of black; where his eyes should have been white, there was naught but more blackness, so the brilliant yellow-amber was all that could be distinguished between them. The charge was brutal, ruthless, but Loki was abruptly in front of the animal, holding his hands up, in his old, Asgardian form.

"Fenrir!" he shouted. "Enough!"

Fenrir pulled back just briefly, halting and sliding in the snow. He barely stopped himself from falling or continuing his charge, and Loki's spear materialized in his hand as the creature got closer. Thankfully, it managed to halt completely at a spot a bare few inches from Loki's face. Lips pulled back from its teeth threateningly as Steprin and the other three giants arrived beside Loki and I; and Sile regrouped around us seconds later.

Fenrir assessed this new development, this new threat. Loki stayed standing in front of me, his eyes hard, and I walked up behind him, eyes narrowed on the creature. I had a better look at it with my own eyes now, and I took the time to observe it closely. His entire shape was vaguely wolf-like, vaguely canine, particularly its face and muzzle… but the rest of it looked more like a Hound at its most muscular (as Hounds fluctuated between gaunt and brawny). It was very powerfully built, with claws that looked as though they could do more damage than a wolf's or dog's. Its teeth gleamed yellow-white, and it was entirely covered in brown fur. There were a few black tips at his shoulder blades, and on his tail, and one paw was white, but the rest of him was a solid, earthy brown.

I considered him briefly; yes, I could see how he would gain a title as a 'wolf' in Norse mythology; easily. The wolf that was tied up and restrained until Ragnarok itself…

But the creature before me was certainly not restrained. That was probably the human myth they made up to make them feel better when they saw this bigass 'wolf' wandering around the planet. His amber eyes gleamed at us, taking us in, then landed and locked on Loki. His lips closed over his teeth, and though he retained his defensive stance, he tilted his head to the side almost curiously.

After a long, tense moment in which every Jotun still held their weapons close and I did not relinquish my shield, Fenrir took a careful step back. He sat in the snow and hunched his head, curling in on himself as a brilliant, orange-yellow light began to build at the center of his chest. He was almost in an animalistic bow as the light built, as I heard the crackling and snapping of bones and muscles reasserting themselves. I winced; I'd heard similar sounds in movies and stuff, but it still wasn't altogether pleasant in real life. Loki continued watching with a hard, stern expression as the light became too much for my eyes, and I turned away.

When it died down, and the sounds vanished, I looked back; a man stood in a crouch, one hand in a fist on the ground and both legs bent at the knee. He straightened slowly, looking momentarily weakened, but after a few moments, blinking eyes that remained amber-black as before, he seemed to regain that strength back.

I blinked. Well, hell, big surprise, even after all this time: Fenrir was a looker. Because everyone was, in my life. That used to be a problem, and maybe some old part of me noted it, but that part of me was too deadened to care much. Well-built with insanely thick muscles, Fenrir stood over me at maybe six foot, only a few inches shorter than Loki. His brown hair matched the color of his fur prior to whatever transformation I'd just witnessed and, thankfully, despite all myth and legend about werewolves (which had pretty much been the only thing going through my head since he'd started the transformation) he was fully clothed. Granted, the clothes were simple, but at least he was wearing them. He had bronzed skin and sharp features that were ruggedly handsome, and I could see a lot of other girls falling head-over-heels for him. I saw it, I recognized that it was there, but I felt none of that attraction. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was not my type, or that I was almost a happily married woman. Personally I think it had more to do with the fact that he'd just tried to take my head off.

"Loki, by all the realms, have you lost your Asgardian mind?" Fenrir demanded as he stalked towards us, getting very close to Loki. He had a nice voice, even when shouting. The other Jotuns tensed, ready to strike against him as he got closer to their king (whether he currently looked like a Jotun or not) but Loki held them back with one hand, giving Fenrir a cold smirk. "I could have killed you!" the other man shouted again.

"Well, I am afraid that you rather forced my hand," Loki said icily, as I stepped up to him and he pulled me against his side in a very poignant gesture. Fenrir noted it, as he was meant to note it. His eyes narrowed on the two of us, then focused more on me. I didn't like those eyes. It wasn't the weirdness of them, with the absence of whites, but rather the darkness they held, the scheming look… but I'd met many a schemer. I was, in fact, engaged to one. And it wasn't really all that surprising that Loki had an old friend who was one.

"This mortal yours?" Fenrir asked, shooting a piercing glare in my direction, using it to indicate who he was speaking about before looking back to Loki. The Jotuns behind me did not relax, but rather grew tenser at the harsh and disrespectful tone in his voice as he referenced me. Hands tightened on weaponry, and Sile even fell into a threatening battle stance, preparing to strike. I was genuinely touched by the sincerity in these defenses for my honor, and wondered what I had done to deserve it. As I wondered, part of me answered: Well _duh!_ You killed Fraye! You're the Shadowslayer! Of course they want to defend you!

But another part of me whispered back: _Is that how I make people respect me? By killing?_

"She is," Loki's voice pulled me back to the conversation at hand as he held me a little closer. His words were hard, but in an odd way. A more friendly way. If that made any sense (it didn't make any sense to me at the time).

"And how, exactly, am I supposed to be aware of that?" Fenrir asked. "She's a human on Jotunheim! _Anyone_ would suspect a trespasser!"

"Yes," Loki agreed, "But if you had bothered to use your nose-which is where you skills lie- instead of trying to use your brain- where they do _not_ \- then you and I would not be having this conversation."

The way that Fenrir did not immediately launch himself at him made it easy for me to understand that this was just 'guy talk', and through all of those insults, they'd basically just said to each other, "Hey, old pal, it's nice to see you again!" "Oh, and you! We should totally do lunch sometime!"

Men, I swear… I fought to keep from rolling my eyes as Fenrir hesitated and carefully sniffed the air. I knew from Loki's memories that his senses were far more acute than any of ours, so I knew what he was doing. Loki and I had been together for a very long time; we spent time together, we sat close together, we slept in the same bed together… so it was only natural that Fenrir could smell Loki's scent on me, and mine on him. Still, the whole thing was pretty weird and made me feel like I should probably take a very long shower.

Fenrir's eyebrows lifted. He looked at me, his eyes a little wider and less threatening. "You're attached to this one, aren't you?" He mused.

That was it. My pride had taken a few licks with this conversation, and now I was done. "'This one'," I told Fenrir coldly. "Has a name."

Fenrir smiled. "And a temper, I see," he said with a flat gaze and shadowed smile. But then he glanced at Loki- whose eyes were now more hard than friendly- and chuckled softly. "My apologies, my lady. I suppose proper introductions are in order."

"Indeed," Loki agreed. "Fenrir, this is my fiancée; Natalie Frost." He looked to me. "Natalie, Fenrir."

As though I hadn't known that already, but best to appear polite. Fenrir's eyebrows went up again. "Natalie Frost?" he asked, sounding startled. "As in the _Shadowslayer,_ Natalie Frost?" he looked to Loki. "Your _fellow_ Shadowslayer?" At Loki's nod, he breathed something in another language that sounded like a swear. "There were rumors that she was mortal, but I never thought… After all, how _could_ she be?"

"Oh, so you've heard of me," I said, with a bite of sarcasm that Loki detected but Fenrir did not appear to. "That's nice."

Though Loki silently chided me for the sardonic words, he smiled ever-so-slightly nonetheless, before turning once again to Fenrir. "I'm surprised you've heard of the Shadowslayers at all," Loki noted to his old friend. "You have been outside of the realms for a very long time."

"Outside of the _realms?_ " Fenrir asked, mildly incredulous. "Great stars, Loki, do you think that even _matters_ anymore? Fraye was not a problem of the realms alone; she was the bane of the universe! The creature of the dark! And now that she is dead, there is not a planet out there that has not heard the term 'Shadowslayer', and there are a great many who know your names, if not your species." His eyes hardened abruptly. "And there are even more who would try to prove their worth by slaying those who slay the shadows themselves. You would be wise to keep your eyes open."

"Duly noted," Loki replied easily, but still with the barest hint of sharpness in his tone. The Jotuns behind us had finally relaxed and, after a quiet moment, Fenrir seemed to notice them. He glanced back to Loki, his eyes narrowing.

"Never mind the mortal, Loki: what is _your_ business on Jotunheim?" the way he called me 'mortal' made the hair on my arms stand on edge. I knew I wasn't the only one.

Loki glanced to me, and I to him. Fenrir had already referred to Loki by asking if he was 'out of his _Asgardian_ mind'. Having not been in the realms for so long, he would not have known- _could_ not have known- about Loki's true nature. That was why Loki had appeared in front of him as he was, instead of in his Jotun form.

(However, it sparked suspicion in me briefly; if he could tell that Loki and I were 'involved' by our scent, then why could he not tell that Loki was a Frost Giant when they were younger? But I brushed the thought aside; it was possible that Odin asked him not to tell, or, if not, then he had simply not trusted his senses enough to be certain and thus had assumed he was wrong.)

Loki paused. Then, "Perhaps you should return with us. There is… much to discuss."

But Fenrir looked… amazed. He breathed out another curse that was foreign to us, in some unknown dialect from some unknown world across the stars… "Is that also true?" he asked quietly. "Are you now Jotunheim's…" he paused, then looked torn between fear of being laughed at for his next word, and fear that no one _would_ laugh. "King?"

Loki considered the term, then glanced to me. I lifted my eyebrows and took a metaphorical step back: Fenrir was his friend. How he told him, _when_ he told him, was his decision. Loki looked back to the shape shifter and, slowly, a flush of blue began to cross his skin. It took over, his Jotun form taking hold, and he stood tall as he looked Fenrir in the eye.

"Aye," he answered. "It is true."

Fenrir looked at him for a long time. It was a long, terse moment, and I knew that Loki was wary about how it would turn out. He had not truly seen how his friends had reacted to learning of his true nature; he had not even seen _Thor's_ reaction to that. And now, a friend from his past, who could easily see him as the monster that they always thought Jotuns were as children…

And then he laughed quietly. "Well congratulations," he half-bowed; the glint in his eye suggested that it was a sarcastic gesture. "Your majesty."

Now don't get me wrong. I hang out with sarcastic little weasels all the time. Again: I'm _engaged_ to one. Hell, I _am_ one. But something about this guy made me want to correct him with 'your _majesties',_ regardless of the fact that I wasn't even anywhere near being Queen yet. I put it down to power going to my head and a bit of jealousy: after all, this was a man who had known Loki for a long time, and would-if he was staying- likely be monopolizing his time for a while. 'Hanging out with the guys', as it were, which meant less time to spend with me. But I wasn't clingy enough for that to matter _too_ badly, so I pushed the worries aside.

As Fenrir straightened, he smiled a smile with some very sharp teeth. They reminded me a little of Fraye's; though hers were only abnormally sharp at the canines. His were like a friggin' shark's. Except without the multiple rows of teeth. No, you know what? The rows wouldn't have surprised me.

"I always _thought_ something smelled off about you," he said, with the tones and cadence that an old friend would easily adopt. It was informal, but as Loki did not appear to mind, the Jotuns did not mind, either.

"You should have trusted your senses," Loki said, in almost a whisper.

"Well, you learn as you grow older," Fenrir responded easily.

"I'm certain," Loki agreed.

There was another silent moment. I rolled my eyes. "Well, this has all been lovely, but why don't I just do what he'll-" at this, I jabbed a thumb towards Loki, "Take five hours to do and just invite you to dinner?"

Fenrir looked at me curiously. The expression on his face suggested that he hadn't entirely expected me to speak. I was just the little-if-odd decoration on Loki's arm. The mortal of no consequence, Shadowslayer or not. I tried not to take too much offense to that- it was a commonly held belief, and I was used to the treatment- as I leaned my weight onto to one foot, breaking away from Loki's arm. "You are, technically, a trespasser on Jotunheim," I pointed out, smiling brilliantly, with all of my teeth. "We'd like to take you back to the palace anyway; and better guest than prisoner, correct?"

The shape shifter's eyes studied me for a very long moment. And then he smiled. "Humanity has certainly come along way," he said pleasantly. "After all, your predecessors somehow managed to find a family resemblance here," he added wryly, gesturing between himself and Loki. I knew what he was referring to: in mythology, Fenrir had been labeled as Loki's 'son'. Don't ask how an 'Asgardian' managed to have a son who was supposed to be a giant wolf.

"I'm afraid that rather unfortunate biography of us has made me somewhat biased against your kind," Fenrir admitted. He seemed pretty apologetic about it. I thought about cutting him a little slack. But he'd opened himself up to a shot, and I couldn't help but take it.

Grinning quite sweetly at Fenrir, I said, "Well, maybe if you hadn't spent so much time screwing with their heads, you'd have a better life story on our world, eh?"

Instead of being offended, Fenrir laughed. Loudly. It was a bark of a sound, ironically enough. "Loki, whatever did you tell her about us? I hope you spared her _some_ of the gory details!"

"I'm afraid I was helpless to do so," Loki answered amiably, holding out his hands, palms up. A gesture of surrender, of 'what-can-you-do?' "As I said, she is my fiancée, and she has ensured that there can be no secrets between us."

"Ah, the wiles of women," Fenrir agreed, half-wistful, half-mocking, with a few quick little nods. I hid a snicker; if he even knew half of what Loki was really referring to… but I knew that he wished to keep a majority of that confidential… for now. "Though I admit to being surprised that you decided upon one outside of your species."

"Well you yourself once had an Asgardian lover, did you not?" Loki asked with a mild shrug. "It is not entirely unheard of."

Loki would not have seen the tightening around Fenrir's eyes if I had not been there; but I read people even better than he did, because I read them for different reasons. He was far too used to reading them for purposes of manipulation; and I for purposes of healing. And it was very clear that, whatever had happened to Fenrir's Asgardian lover, it was still a very raw and painful wound.

"Aye," Fenrir agreed, still smiling despite the pain in his eyes. It had been a brief flicker, though I was certain it had been there. He looked to me. "And this one is indeed…special," he gave me a deep nod. "Lady Shadowslayer."

I nodded in turn. He straightened again. "And I shall indeed accompany you on your return, if that is what you wish," he said, nodding to us both.

"We insist," Loki said, and there was that old, cunning smile on his face. I knew he liked it, liked being back with this old friend who made him feel like the Trickster again, whom he traded old and familiar words with, when after all this time, he had become used to tamer, less edged conversations.

There were a few more words traded before Fenrir turned and walked with us. Sile and I again scouted ahead, though more for my own need to get away from the newcomer than any real need to do so. We had found the supposed 'intruder'. There was not a great deal more to worry about.

There was a long silence. Then, Sile asked me, "Lady Shadowslayer?"

I looked to him. He again spoke in quiet tones, just to be certain. "Aye?"

He looked to me, somewhat concerned. "Fenrir is an old friend of the King's, correct?"

"Aye."

His eyes were very stern and serious as he said, "Of the king as he was in days of old, before he became king, before he learned of his true nature?"

I halted, looking to him. Loki, Fenrir, and the others were still specks in the distance. Loki and Fenrir were engaged in conversation and friendly banter. It had been pretty immediate.

"Where is this going, Sile?"

The Jotun scout looked away. "Forgive me, my lady, but the Loki of old was not always as he is today."

No arguments here. "And any friend of the man he was," Sile said slowly, "May no longer be such a friend to Jotunheim now."

I straightened a little, looking up to him. My neck was starting to hurt from looking up at all of these Giants. "You don't trust him."

"Neither do you," Sile said, and though his eyes touched mine when he said it, he did not outright meet my gaze.

He was right. I didn't. And for the exact same reasons. I nodded a few times. "Have him tailed for the duration of his stay here," I ordered. "But be careful. His senses are far more acute than any Giant's." I paused, then turned and kept walking. "I'll inform the king."

Sile relaxed a great deal. "As you command, Lady Shadowslayer."

We arrived at the palace a while later, and I immediately headed up to get changed. Loki arrived a while later, so I had time to get out of my snow-soaked clothes and into something a little more dinner appropriate. It had to be something that was warmer, but I wanted to be a little fancy-pants; after all, it was 'dinner with an old friend', and the occasion we were making it into did call for a little more formality.

While I did this, Loki entered the palace, Fenrir beside him. The other Jotuns dispersed, for the most part, and the two talked in relative privacy.

"Of all the thrones, friend, this is the one I expected to see you on the least," Fenrir mused. "But it does suit you."

Loki rolled his eyes. "It never once occurred to you that I would have a throne at all."

"Well, there was Thor to consider."

Ice stabbed through Loki's veins. He pushed it away quickly. "My brother will make a fine king." He said quietly.

"Undoubtedly."

More ice. Loki put on a bitter smile. "But the Asgardian throne is better suited to him and, as you say: this suits me quite well."

Fenrir laughed. He was still laughing when a blue figure passed by, wearing the shackles of a slave… Fenrir halted abruptly. He sniffed the air. Twice.

Loki frowned, looking to the slave, and was all at once surprised and entirely unsurprised to see Puck's face. "The half-breed," he said quietly. Fenrir looked to him. His eyes were wide with shock. "His heritage is known," Loki promised, walking on.

Fenrir hesitated, then trailed after him. "Yeah…" he said slowly. "Yeah, I thought he was somewhat…" He frowned. The two were quiet for a long time, and then Fenrir changed the subject. They talked for a few more minutes before Loki lead the shape shifter towards a vacant room.

"I assume whatever journey you've had has wearied you," Loki said politely. "You are welcome to rest here for whatever time it takes."

Fenrir gave him a toothy smile. "Good to know your friends are there when you need them, isn't it?"

Loki responded with an icy smile in turn. "It is indeed."

And then he breezed away, leaving the shape shifter behind. Fenrir's smile dropped almost immediately, and he went into his room for a long moment, waiting for the sound of Loki's footsteps to trail off into the distance. He heard others soon afterwards, however. And then the knock on the door.

Fenrir took a long, deep breath through his nose, sorting through the scents in the room… and then his eyes snapped open, and he smiled a terrible smile. He stalked to the door and yanked it open violently. Puck stood there, holding his stare dangerously; and in his hands were a change of clothes, more suited to Jotun formality. He'd taken the duty off of the hands of another servant of the palace, who had been all too happy to give it to him.

Fenrir didn't even blink at the sight of the clothes. Instead, he gripped Puck by the iron collar around his neck and yanked him inside, throwing him to the ground. Puck cried out but not too loudly, suggesting that he'd been ready for such an attack, and he recovered in the space of time it took for Fenrir to close the door and turn to him. Puck placed the clothes in his hands on the bed nearby and whirled to Fenrir.

"It's a cute little game you're playing here, kid," Fenrir said with a smile that could only be described as malicious. "Dangerous, but cute." He tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. "But I've learned to trust this in days of late. And it has already exposed you for _everything_ that you are."

"You think that is an advantage?" Puck asked, his eyes equally as malicious as Fenrir's. "You think that I am ignorant of you? That I do not know everything that _you_ are?"

"Good to know I make that much of an impression," Fenrir said, eyes gleaming almost hungrily. Without even thinking about it, the two had begun to circle each other, with the slow, casual steps of two predators, sizing each other up to fight over a kill. They were glaring silently just long enough for Fenrir to ask, "Well? Aren't you going to tell me not to try anything? That the Shadowslayers are _yours?_ "

Puck didn't answer, but his lips mashed into a hard, thin line. Fenrir barked out a cruel laugh. "Oh, that's _right._ You _can't._ Because I'm _supposed_ to do this, because you have too many _rules…_ " he laughed again, shaking his head a few times. "How disappointing. And here I actually thought that you might be a threat. You can't get anywhere in life with rules, kid. Take it from someone who knows."

Puck took a threatening step forwards, his eyes harder than the iciest, coldest heart of Jotunheim. He kept moving forwards, until he was naught but an inch from Fenrir's face. "The Shadowslayers are under my protection," he threatened in a dark, ominous tone. "If you harm them, if you lay a hand on them… I will kill you." He could smell Fenrir's breath, the two were so close. "Make no mistake. If you travel down this road… you will lose."

"Oh, but I'm _supposed_ to travel down this road, aren't I?" Fenrir asked, trying to sound innocent… but the spite in his words would not be denied or suppressed long enough for him to do so. "This is what I'm _supposed_ to do. You _can't_ warn me off."

"No," Puck answered. "But I _can_ kill you."

"Some other day, some other time," Fenrir replied airily, stepping away from him so that the two were no longer so close together. "But as it now stands, you can't even tell them who you are, can you?" He laughed, leaning on a shelf that he had walked behind and placed between them. "What kind of torment must that be, to know who they are… and to be unable to say a word to them? What kind of _hell_ did they sentence you to?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Oh, enough, Fenrir. Nothing you say can turn me against them. Nothing you say can turn me away from _you._ "

"No," Fenrir conceded with a particularly nasty grin. "I suppose not. Because if they die, then so do you, right?"

Puck did not respond. Fenrir laughed a twisted laugh and straightened, meandering casually around the room. "I'm gonna let you keep this little secret of yours. I'm going to let you live in this hell. And I'm gonna let you watch them die before you. Just to see the look on your face when everything burns before your eyes."

The slave rolled his eyes again, walking to the doors. "You're a madman, Fenrir. You always have been." He walked out, adding, "And I haven't the _time_ for you."

He closed the door behind him. Well, 'slammed' was perhaps the more accurate term. Fenrir waited until he heard his footsteps fade down the hall. And then he laughed a tiny laugh, looking down.

"No, kid," he said quietly, speaking at the stone floors. "Not always."

* * *

"Well?" I asked, stepping into the room a bit nervously. "What do you think?"

Loki turned to face me. His heart did a weird little stuttery thing behind mine, and walls immediately surrounded his thoughts. He swallowed, taking me in for a long moment. The dress was clearly Midgardian, as I'd yet to get a Jotun-style dress that was not too cold for me. The sleeves came down to my wrists and the hemline went down to my ankles, covering me up pretty nicely, keeping me decently warm. It was solidly black, hugging the few curves I had (and unfortunately emphasizing those that I did not) and it shimmered just softly. A silver necklace, along with the silver band on my wrist that looked like jewelry but really wasn't, gave a little bit more of a formal touch to the outfit; and the royal blue cloak on my back completed that attempt. I'd done up my hair quickly, in a style that looked fancy but really wasn't, and I was-gasp!- wearing earrings for the first time since… probably since third grade. There were a few touches of makeup, but nothing too fancy. Regardless of how pretty it felt, I still despised the dress and had made certain that it was of a fabric that could be very easily torn if I got into a sudden fight. I was also not wearing high heels, another smart move, and the earrings were studs; so they didn't dangle down as an advantage to an opponent. The cape could be taken off easily as well. I left little to chance (though the necklace still worried me somewhat).

Loki surveyed me for a long moment. And then, he said, "Quite honestly, I am confused." He looked to me. "You choose to dress this way for Fenrir, but not your own fiancée? I'm injured."

I rolled my eyes and socked his arm; he chuckled, rubbing out the mild pain as he corrected, "You look beautiful, Frost."

I nodded primly, as though this was only expected and it was just what he was _supposed_ to say… but it sent a heated flush through my cheeks nonetheless. It took me a long moment to remember that it was, quite possibly, the first time he'd ever said that to me. It reminded me of just how long it had really been since Loki and I got together: not nearly long enough. Sometimes it felt like forever. Sometimes, it felt like no time at all. This was one of those times.

I looked Loki up and down before rolling my eyes again, sighing with much gusto. "And you, of course, look amazing, as usual," I said, waving a hand about. "No surprise there."

He chuckled lightly. Despite the formality of the rest of his clothes, he still wasn't wearing a freaking shirt, which kinda ticked me off a little. It's like Jotuns just like to flaunt off their inability to feel cold at all times, so they just don't wear anything unnecessary. It's kinda weird. And it makes things pretty difficult for the one and only human in this place. But still, I rocked what clothes I had, because I acted like I owned the place (and I almost did) and carried myself with more authority than half of the planet. I'd once wondered why immortals all seemed to carry themselves with perfect regality; and not just the royals. But now… well, now I saw the difference between that and true authority, true power, true royal grace. Because the true power isn't trying. True power doesn't care enough to _try._ Those who have it just do as they do; and it shows on them very clearly, regardless of whether they're trying to show it.

I shook the musings out of my head, wondering where the tangent had come from but deciding that I didn't care.

"Shall we, then?" Loki asked, pulling me even further from my thoughts and extending an arm towards me as his eyes glinted. I took his arm.

"We shall," I said, nodding once, and the two of us left the room.

We arrived in the dining hall; it was large enough to be packed with people, and to be pretty imposing when it _wasn't._ And, since currently, there was only myself and Loki, I knew that it might be a little intimidating to Fenrir when he arrived. Though, he _was_ used to royals. He and Loki had been friends when they were younger, after all. So he might have been used to royal halls, as well.

Fenrir arrived a few moments later, escorted into the hall by a pair of Jotuns. He, too, looked pretty good in Jotun formality, though he had kept his shirt, and his pants were a little longer than the usual style. I supposed, not being a Jotun himself, he would get cold as well. Which, in turn, warmed me up to him a little. He was Loki's old friend and he was a bit pompous, but he was still just a guy with normal concerns and a life that, to him, would be 'normal.' He was just an ordinary person, shape shifter or no.

He smiled genially at Loki, then at me. "Never shall it be said that Jotunheim did not reward its champions," he noted, glancing around the hall, taking in the impressive display. "They truly value you, Shadowslayers."

Loki chuckled lightly. "They value a deed done."

"But the deeds make the man," Fenrir countered.

"I should hope not," Loki re-countered. "Otherwise you and I would have a few most unsavory characteristics, from deeds of old."

Fenrir laughed as we all sat. "The deeds of boys do not translate into the later deeds of men."

"Quite," Loki agreed, indicating the other man with the goblet that he had picked up after sitting down…

And on it went. The two caught up on their time spent apart, with Loki revealing as little as he could and Fenrir seeming to open up while I sat, mostly quiet, asking questions on occasion but otherwise keeping my mouth shut. Fenrir never seemed overly hostile towards me, but he was never overly _friendly,_ either, which in turn made me stay silent. Not that I really minded; it gave me time to zone out, to think. But it also gave me a great opportunity to listen. People don't always pay attention to the quiet ones. That's what we count on.

I listened as Fenrir attempted to regale us with stories of the battles he'd been in, during his life as a rogue. We had known for a while that Fenrir had all but abandoned his home world; and now he told us the wonders of the universe. Loki and I had seen a great deal of the universe, but I still found it fascinating, to learn more. That was something I could never get enough of, and so Loki occasionally prodded more deeply into Fenrir's stories of other worlds and other species, for my benefit.

All of these stories boiled down to the reason Fenrir was here; because he had heard myths and legends about Fraye, whispers that he had thought best avoided; but when he'd learned that the Shadowslayer was his old friend Loki Odinson (and Loki was quick to correct him on that little flaw; he was the son of Laufey here, as he had always been), Fenrir had decided to pay a visit. It had been many centuries, and he was concerned: as he had said, there were many who would make a name for themselves by slaying the Shadowslayers.

"And, quite frankly, Loki…" Fenrir sighed deeply. "The life of a rogue is less glamorous than one would hope. Moving from place to place without roots… one makes do with all manner of unsavory places to rest their heads."

Loki offered before he could ask: "You are more than welcome to stay here, Fenrir." He promised the words with a gentle voice. "I'm certain Jotunheim would welcome any warrior of your worth; and you are, after all, one of my oldest friends."

Fenrir gave him a little, almost self-deprecatory smile. His eyes went down, almost humbly. For some reason, that triggered my shrink senses and triggered them big. There was a great deal of meekness in the gesture, but no humility whatsoever. "That would be most appreciated," he said, with a trace of exhaustion, and a soft exhale of relief. "I would not impede upon your hospitality long." His smile grew ever more wry. "I find that I cannot be tethered to one world for any great length of time."

"Oh?" Loki asked, taking a sip of his drink. When he set the cup down again, his eyebrows had furrowed in curiosity. "You were rather a permanent fixture in Asgard, as I recall. Before you made your decision to leave your world, that is."

That was when I saw it. I took a hasty bite of food-I'd long ago stopped identifying it; I just knew that it tasted like perfection and that I'd probably eaten too much of it because my stomach was starting to ache- and looked down to my plate to hide my interest. It had definitely been there, that look on Fenrir's face. That intense, _insane_ grief. It had been temporary. Quick. But it was there, it was undeniably there, and it was there whenever Asgard was mentioned. I scanned through Loki's memories, trying to piece together what had happened to Fenrir there, knowing that it must have been _something…_

No, I knew what it was. I sighed to myself, hiding it by taking a drink at the same time. Loki had said it himself; Fenrir had once had an Asgardian lover. Once. Not anymore.

So where was she now?

The grief said it all. I had no more questions, spoken or unspoken. Fenrir was clicking into place in my mind. Everyone has a past, and here was his; the raw, gaping wound that stung and tormented him so badly, best left alone unless one has the proper tools and bandaging and salves to repair it. Given my current state, I hardly had those tools. A fact which I was reminded of whole-heartedly when my stomach suddenly wrenched with pain, and I looked down at my plate, at how much I'd eaten…

I cursed in my head, standing abruptly. Fenrir's eyes went to me, more attentive than before, but only so because of how startled he was by the sudden movement. I didn't say anything to him, nor to Loki, as I raced from the room, running as fast as my legs could carry me, my stomach twisting and wrenching…

"This way, Lady Shadowslayer," a harried palace servant said quickly, navigating me aside. I allowed the giantess to guide me away from the room and into the nearest restroom. She handed me a bucket (an extra feature in the room, and not their excuse for a toilet, thankfully) and I clasped my arms around it, fingers shaking as my stomach heaved, and I vomited straight into the metal bucket.

It took me a long time to recover, feeling shaky and weak, and I cursed my own stupidity in my head as I did so. The giantess remained beside me, setting aside my toothbrush and toothpaste for when I was finished. This was, after all, a fairly standard procedure by now.

Once I had recovered -some- I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. There was a few droplets of sweat on my forehead, despite the cold, and the dress that I'd felt so 'beautiful' in earlier was nothing more than a cumbrance now. I gave the giantess a wry, twisted smile, feeling weak.

"Almost made it this time, eh?" I said, with as much cheer as I could manage. She smiled back in turn, almost as weak as mine was.

"Aye, my lady," she agreed without agreeing. I dismissed her after a moment, and though she was reluctant, she left. I sighed to myself as I brushed my teeth; I'd been doing pretty well. But Fenrir had distracted me; my focus hadn't been on what I was eating, or how much of it. I did that so frequently these days, overeating until the point where I became sick… Fraye's little gift to me, one of many. Loki reassured Fenrir back at the dinner table that my little outburst was nothing to be concerned over while I informed him that I wouldn't be coming back. Better to get away from all that food, with all those food smells that were just so great and wonderful and perfect, all that food that I could never take for granted again…

Loki agreed, asking if he was needed… I blew him off and told him to enjoy his dinner with Fenrir before I headed back to our chambers and collapsed onto the bed. My stomach was still a little queasy, but much better now. It always got better afterwards. And then the hunger started again.

I snatched a pack of fruit-flavored gum and started chewing. The flavors were artificial and false but that didn't matter; regardless of artificiality, they exploded over my tongue and swirled between my teeth and they settled my stomach. And that made them perfect.

I stayed lying in my room until a knock came at the door; I was dozing, but I suspected that it was Loki, until a swift check in my head informed me that he and Fenrir were with the Twins, discussing magic, as usual. I frowned and stood, realizing that I was still in my dress and feeling a little self-conscious about it. I went to the door and opened it to reveal…

Puck.

I blinked at him. His eyes were on the ground, his entire body half-bowed. "A thousand apologies, my lady," he said in a hushed whisper, glancing around to every side. "But I'm afraid that what I must say cannot be left unsaid until tomorrow."

I blinked again, then leaned against the doorframe. "What is it, kiddo?"

He looked around worriedly. "Fenrir, my lady," he said, looking up at me at last. His eyes were filled with… was that fear? Hate? I wasn't certain. "I know that it is not my place, but please." His hand was suddenly on mine. The gesture was unexpected and with anyone else, I would have flinched away. Perhaps not if Loki had done so, but that was different, Loki _couldn't_ startle me, it was nigh impossible. But, startling as this movement had been, it hadn't seemed to shock me in the slightest. Puck's hands tightened around both of mine as he pleaded. "Please, Lady Shadowslayer. If you ever valued my words, value them now. Do not trust Fenrir. Do not go near him." His voice lowered. "He is no friend to the crown."

And then, suddenly, he had released my hands. And, with jumpy movements and darting eyes, he was gone down the hallway, vanishing. I watched him go, stunned; too stunned to go after him, but clearly he did not wish for me to, and that kind of urgency usually got what it wanted.

I closed the door, my throat tight, and pondered the slave's words. Trusting Fenrir hadn't been big on my list of priorities; but then again, neither was trusting Puck. The kid wasn't exactly making things easier with this crap, either.

One of them was a liar. They had to be, if the other was telling the truth. And every instinct screamed to trust Puck…

It was too much. I shook my head out; in any case, if one of them turned on me, I would be worth jack shit in this outfit. I tore off the dress and necklace and earrings and all jewelry and fancy shoes and hairstyle and the fancy, formal Natalie went with it. I stuffed it all away and pulled on something a little more practical; long-sleeved black turtleneck, black pants, silent shoes.

And then I went out the door and started a wolf hunt.

* * *

"I do hope that you're entirely satisfied."

"Oh, stop being a crybaby. I kept downwind, didn't I?"

"Fenrir is a _guest,_ " Loki said exasperatedly, leaning against the bed that separated us, leaning on his fists and knuckles. "And you have him watched like a common enemy? You, the Shadowslayer herself, deigned it necessary to _spy_ on him?"

"There's something wrong with him, Loki."

"There is something wrong with that half-breed _slave_ of yours, and you have yet to follow _him."_

The words sliced the air, as did the disgust that tainted the words 'half-breed slave'. They sent a barrier of crackling ice and fire between Loki and I, and my eyes narrowed on him. He hesitated for a long moment, then sighed and straightened.

"My apologies," Loki said quietly. "That was uncalled for."

"Just 'cause he's a slave, and a _half-breed,"_ I said frostily, "Does not mean that he's any less of a _person._ " I looked away. "And I think that Fenrir might cause you to forget that from time to time."

Loki looked ready to protest. And then he clamped his mouth shut. Sighing again, more heavily this time, he asked, "What would you have me do, Frost? I trust your judgment, but he _is_ an old friend. We grew up together, in some ways and others. I would trust him with my life, and have _done_ so, _frequently._ He has never given me cause to think ill of him."

I frowned. "I know that," I said, turning away. "I just… wanted to double-check for myself, is all."

There was a long silence. Then, Loki asked, "And what did you find?"

I turned back to him. He raised his eyebrows, still standing at the other end of the bed. I sighed and sat down on my end while he sat down on his. "Nothing," I answered blandly. "Nothing worthwhile, not yet." I frowned at Loki. "But I still don't like the effect he has on you. I know it's a common belief, that mortals are your lesser and they have fewer brains n'shit, but he seems to believe it a lot more than most. And the more you're with him, the more I think that maybe you'll start to remember that you believed that once, too."

There was a long silence as Loki closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. Taking another breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. And then he muttered, "Imbecile." He rolled his eyes as he opened them again. "It may very well be your _own_ stupidity that makes me remember that belief." He glanced to me, his features sharp but his eyes kind. He gripped my arm and pulled me into his side, and I placed my head on his chest, my usual spot. He sighed deeply, and I could feel it inside of his rib cage, his lungs vibrating beneath me as his heart beat in time with the shadow beat behind my own.

"Whatever I may remember about my past beliefs, I can still never forget present ones," he said firmly. "And if mortals were truly lesser, than you, my dear, would not be where you are now."

The 'my dear' was half-endearing, half-mocking. He tended to do that with _all_ terms of endearment. That was the thing about Loki: he could say and do nice things, but he had to remind you that he was a smarmy little jerk at the same time. I scowled… then sighed and let it go.

"Puck said he didn't trust him," I said quietly.

"And you do not trust Puck," he reminded me.

"Not entirely," my eyes went distant, phasing out, my vision blurring as they did so. "But I don't trust Fenrir, either." I sighed deeply and buried my face in his chest as I admitted, "I guess I really just don't trust _anyone_ anymore."

Loki's features softened. He ran a gentle hand down my arm, lifting up the scarred inside of my forearm and running cold fingers delicately across his name. "I suppose," he said quietly, "That is reasonable."

"I still hate it," I muttered, not looking up, keeping my face buried.

"It'll pass. In time."

Time. I sighed deeply; we had all the time in the world to figure this stuff out, but I still felt as though, at any second, everything would change. As though everything would fall apart and I just had such short amounts of 'time' to fix it, to repair my life temporarily before it went topsy-turvy again. If I ever could. If I could escape the fact that every time I woke up I thought that I was still on Fraye's dead home world with her smile infecting my mind and her laughter filling my hollow ears and everything that was not numb being exposed to pain at all times…

I pushed it aside. We were quiet for a very long time, neither of us saying a word, following our own trains of thought that occasionally joined along the same tracks, but split before long. Loki absently, but gently, ran his fingers along the scars on my arm, tracing and re-tracing them with his freezing fingertips. I dozed for a while, but didn't quite fall asleep before one of Loki's more errant thoughts startled me back into full consciousness.

"Hey," I said, sitting upright so that I could face him. " _Hey…_ " I said, half chastising, half gentle, moving in close to him. "Don't even think that. Of course I trust _you_. Of _course_ I do. I wouldn't _love_ you if I didn't _trust_ you."

Loki gave me a sad smile. "As you trust Puck?" he asked, his words light and airy. My eyes narrowed.

"Don't even compare yourself to that. D'you understand me? Don't even think about it. You're my other half, you're my fiancée, you're not even remotely _close_ to Puck. You're one of the few- the _only-_ that I _do_ trust, okay, so don't even… don't even think that way."

"I betrayed you once, Frost."

I leaned closer, pressing up against him, hand closing into a fist on his chest. My eyes were inches from his as I said, "And I know that you're nowhere near _stupid_ enough to do so again. I trust you, Loki. In a lot of ways… I trust you more than I trust myself." I tilted my head to the side. "Okay?"

He studied me for a long moment. And then he leaned forward a few inches, closing the gap between us, kissing me swiftly. "Very well," he answered quietly, then gently navigated me so that I was lying down again. His eyes had gone distant, and I knew he was placating, letting the issue die for now. I sighed deeply; it was as good as I would get for the moment.

"Get some rest, Frost," he ordered in a quiet tone; and I closed my eyes and obeyed, knowing that he would sleep soon afterwards…

Together, we drifted, until we fell asleep.


	3. Break These Bonds

" _She isn't yours anymore, my little plaything," The familiar voice purrs in my ear, stroking her small fingers across my back and making the shadow marks there burn. "She's_ _ **mine.**_ _And she will always be_ _ **mine…"**_

 _How many years has it been, since I sent her away, since I left her to die, to rot…? And now she returns, Natalie Frost, my Natalie Frost, with her absence still screaming in my mind and my name carved in one arm and Fraye's name carved in the other… and as she sees me, she smirks wickedly. Her shield flares and shining, Tesseract-blue knives form on her fingertips and palms, and she lurches towards me, the same emptiness in her eyes that is in mine. Madness taints her smile as she giggles, coming towards me._

" _You left me there, darling," she says in a voice that floats and dances. "You left me to die and now here I am, and let's play a game, shall we?"_

 _My blood on her hands, blue blood that stains her and her red blood on mine and we are never dying, never dying, just killing each other and killing ourselves, but never dying, never bleeding out, just fighting forever and ever as Fraye has made us do…_

Loki opened his eyes, his heart beating somewhere in his throat and his lungs starved for air. He sat upright abruptly, gasping, and immediately began the scans of his own mind… and found dreams where my head should be. His eyes darted to the side and found my glowing form, a small and tired figure that was… yes. Still breathing. He relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh of relief and running his hands down his face.

It wasn't his first nightmare since Fraye's death, but damned if it wasn't one of the worst. And they were ever so rare these days; our mental defenses always fought them, even when they did not come from an outside source such as Fraye herself.

He shivered for a moment, taking a few deep breaths until he was in control again, until his heart had slowed and the world was more stable. I shifted in my sleep and he watched me for a long time, trying to reassure himself without much success. He gently began to brush my hair back, to run his fingers through it… and that helped. More than he was comfortable admitting, it helped.

He sighed deeply, kissed me once on the forehead, and stood, clasping a cloak over his shoulders that was altogether unnecessary but looked a little more formal, in case he encountered anyone else. It was possible; the palace was certainly less alive at night, but there were still sentries posted, still guards outside certain doors. Loki walked out of the room, deep in thought, trying to push aside any lingering images from the nightmare.

He walked through the palace, to no great surprise of the castle sentries or servants who still tended to nighttime duties. It was not altogether uncommon, for one of us to do so; the Shadowslayers seemed comfortable amidst the dark.

If only they knew. Loki detested the dark, and thus hated the night, but night was quiet and the palace semi-lit, and so he could explore these halls on those days in which his mind grew too loud and the dreams too horrific to tolerate.

Loki walked with stride and purpose, the stride and purpose that he always held in days of late, the purpose of power, but his head was bowed. He watched the ground as it passed beneath his feet, keeping his eyes there as he listened to the silence. He detested silence even more than he loathed the darkness. Or, at the very least, he hated _true_ silence. He knew what it could do to a person. He had seen its effects. Had _felt_ them.

He shuddered again and forced himself not to think of it. But it was so ever-present in days of late. He had arranged it so that he and I would never have to be separated, so that we could stay together for the rest of one of our lives… but it was only a mortal lifespan. And when it was over, the silence would return.

He heaved a sigh, watching the stone and ice beneath his feet. Making mortality out of immortality was simple, if you were powerful enough; Odin, at least, could do so, if asked or so inclined. But the process reversed? It was impossible. Not even Odin himself was capable of that, and he was certainly capable of a great many things.

Loki turned his attention away from that as forcefully as he could, banishing the thoughts to the back of his mind and trying to pull other ones to its forefront. Worries that had solutions, worries of his reign and rule. The issue of slavery, perhaps, or the issue of the twin mages and whatever new scheme they were plotting now. Or perhaps the most pressing of all: the Casket of Ancient Winters.

It was no secret that Jotunheim wished for this source and heart of their power to be returned to them, and Loki knew that he could easily win over those who currently hated him if he had it. If he could persuade the Asgardians to return it. Thor was meant to be king soon enough; could he ask that of his brother? Could he ask of it now, of his adopted father? Asgard and Jotunheim had been at war for many years, it was true, and when the Jotuns last had the Casket they had used its power for destruction on Midgard… but it was hardly something they _wished_ for. It was Fraye's doing, not the Jotuns'. Surely the Asgardians would understand such a thing…?

And Jotunheim was not the beautiful place that Loki knew it could be- knew from my memory, because I had been so interested and asked so many questions of so many Giants, who were more than willing to tell of these glory days to new ears that were so ready to listen. It could be so very great… he could restore his world to greatness. That was all he wanted, all he ever wanted: for his reign to leave things in a better state then they were before. He wanted to heal this world, as he had hurt so many others. And he could do it, he knew Thor better than anyone, he could persuade him, knew how to phrase the question and push the right buttons in his brother to ensure he received the right answer…

Loki was thinking of ways to call such a meeting- perhaps he could propose an alliance at the same time, it was high time such a thing happened- when a noise called his attention elsewhere. He turned towards the direction of the sound: a rasping, grating laugh, followed by the sickening, all-too-familiar thud of flesh striking flesh. A soft and muffled cry of pain.

There were murmurs, harsh words by their tone but indistinguishable. Loki followed them with silent steps, wary and cautious, his hands at his sides as he fell into a nigh predatory crouch. Any conflict within the palace was likely a very bad thing indeed.

He hunted down the sounds and waited behind a corner as he heard, "-Breed. Just Fight back. It's not so _difficult._ "

Another thud of flesh against flesh, more distinguishable now; a kick to the ribs, perhaps. Another cry, but it was muffled by the one who made it. The victim, not the attacker, was trying to keep himself quiet. That, along with the word 'breed', told Loki _exactly_ who the victim of this particular assault was. The _half-_ breed, who would of course try not to cry out, because it would draw more attention to himself. A slave could not afford such things.

Puck.

Loki felt something stirring inside of him. It was an old emotion, yet entirely new: _hate._ It was pure, untainted, familiar to him in that he had felt such hot hatred before, but foreign to him as well: in that it came from an instinct he had no name for, an instinct deep inside of him. An instinct he had never used. It was a _protective_ one, but somehow… _primal,_ something unlike what he felt for me or for his brother or teammates in the field. It was intense, a rush of feeling, and Loki knew that he had no choice but to follow it, for it took control of his every limb and made his body stagger forwards, towards the confrontation.

He did not identify the Giant who was kicking the already beaten Puck on the ground. Loki barely registered the fact that this Giant was far larger then himself, or that he was likely skilled in battle, just as he was. He merely reached forwards, gripped the other man by the shoulder, and pulled him backwards, flinging him to one side.

The hate poured down his arms and caused him to strike the man, to land blow after blow on his ribs and, when the Giant lost his air and the ability to stand, bringing him to his knees in front of Loki, the face. Now that it was within reach, Loki landed a quick, debilitating-but not hard enough to be lethal- strike on the man's throat before pushing him to the ground, shoving him far away from the half-breed. The Giant choked and gasped and looked around wildly, blindly; but it was dark here, and Loki used this to his advantage, not letting himself be seen, keeping himself as a wraith of the night…

The Giant tried to crawl away, and it took everything that Loki had to keep from chasing him down as he finally scrambled to his feet and ran. Puck, on the ground, looked up at his shadowed rescuer with wide red eyes as Loki watched the other giant flee. Only as the other man vanished did the hate temper itself just slightly; enough for Loki to question why he had done this, why he had bothered, what this slave was to him…

But there was still the taste of blood in his mouth, rusting and metallic, and there was still hate coursing through him like wildfire. It was a horrendous, terrible, vile thing, to attack this half-breed, to harm him, to cause any hurt upon him…

The sincerity-and the raw _power-_ behind this emotion startled Loki, and, admittedly, almost frightened him. Whatever effect Puck had on me, it appeared to affect _him_ just as badly. Loki swallowed, torn between his hatred for the Giant who would harm Puck and fear at what Puck had done to cause this hatred. He turned to the half-breed, still looking up from the ground.

The look on Puck's face added a third emotion to the chaos already inside of him: something similar to sympathy, but not nearly so… pitying. He didn't pity the half-breed, but he wished to help him. He _needed_ to help him.

 _What has he_ _ **done**_ _to me?_

Nonetheless, Loki knelt beside the other Giant (or perhaps the other half a Giant) and held out his hand, shifting into the light so that Puck could see his face. Loki saw Puck swallow, detected the movement in his throat as he reached out and accepted the king's hand. Loki helped him back to his feet in silence, and Puck turned his eyes downward.

Loki scanned the injuries. Superficial, mostly. He would live. "Are you hurt?" The concern in his own words again startled and worried him. He brushed the fears aside, for now.

Puck shook his head. "I've had worse, your majesty." His voice lowered. "Thank you."

Loki nodded once, curtly. He glanced to the side, where the Giant had disappeared. "Who was he?" Loki asked. "What happened?"

Puck wiped blue blood from his lip. "I'm uncertain, your majesty," he admitted. "I've never seen him before. He attacked me from behind and…" he looked down. "Kept kicking."

"You've never seen him, and yet he holds enough hatred to try and kill you?" Loki asked, eyebrows lifting. Puck smiled ruefully, not looking up.

"Slaves are not well loved. Half-breeds even less so. It was within his right."

"No, it wasn't."

Puck looked up at the tone in Loki's voice and forced himself to look away again. For a moment, there had been something shining in his eyes as Loki's voice grew ever more grave. It was _not_ within _any_ creature's right to do as such, no matter what he had once believed. And Loki knew that if I had been here, I would likely be tracking that Giant down right now, just so that I could drag him into the nearest prison cell; after I beat his face in a few times first, of course. It was partly my influence that infused so much grim sincerity in his tone, but Loki would have been blind not to admit that it was also partly because of whatever effect this half-breed had.

"If it happens again," Loki ordered, "You will tell me. Or Lady Frost." His eyes hardened. "Am I understood?"

Puck looked away. "I'm afraid that it happens too frequently for such a thing, your majesty. My sincerest of apologies, but if I _were_ to tell you… it is possible such a thing could get me killed."

Loki frowned. This much was true, he had to admit; and he would have seen that sooner, on another day. If this blinding _hatred_ wasn't clouding everything. He sighed heavily. "Then go to the Healer," he ordered. "And report to me when you have finished."

Puck looked down nervously. "Your majesty…" He began to protest.

"Do as I say, Puck," Loki ordered, a trace of his exasperation tainting his words.

"Aye, your majesty," Puck answered, then ducked away quickly. Loki sighed quietly as he watched the half-breed go, then returned to our quarters, sitting inside while he waited for Puck to return. His hands folded in front of him, Loki concentrated on what he must do next. Of course, it would have to wait for the morning…

He sighed deeply. It was not the smartest of decisions. It was based on rash impulse and these strange emotions that had most certainly been tampered with, though he still could not sense how. But it was certainly the decision I would have made in his place, rash and impulsive and reckless though it was; and in many ways, that was how he knew it was the right one. He would not admit it, but that was how he knew many of his decisions were the 'right' ones; because they were something that I, or his brother, might have done.

Loki closed his eyes, concentrating, and waited for Puck to return.

* * *

I've woken up to a lot of really rotten things. From ice on the back of the neck, to Fraye at the end of my bed, you name it, it's probably happened to me. They say that the way you wake up can sometimes effect your whole day; which was why I was hopeful for the day ahead, despite knowing that I had school for a few hours, a test in one class, and a really big question to ask of a fellow Avenger.

Because today I woke up in a very nice way: as my eyes opened, they immediately trained on the man watching me, staring above me.

I lifted an eyebrow. "Hello, Loki," I said, rather pleasantly. "May I ask why you are watching me sleep?"

He studied me for a long time. And then his hand reached out, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. With careful but firm hands he pulled my face forwards and met my lips with his.

Like I said. Not the worst way to wake up.

After he broke off, I smiled, my heart still beating a little too fast. "You did something stupid again, didn't you?"

"Utterly imbecilic," He agreed.

"Good stupid or bad stupid?"

"There is a 'good stupid'?"

"In our world, half of the things we _do_ are good stupid," I answered, propping up on my elbows so that I could kiss him again. He was happy to kiss me back; it was a good way to avoid what he knew he had to tell me next. After a moment, I fell back onto the pillows. "So which is it?"

"Something you will agree with, I'm certain."

"Good stupid, then."

He seemed to concur, though he didn't respond. Kissing me again, briefly, this time on the forehead, he ordered, "Get dressed."

I looked to him innocently. "But you haven't told me what you did yet," I complained half-heartedly.

"And I will not, until you are dressed," he countered with ease, standing and leaving the room so that I could do so in privacy. I pouted a little, but threw off the covers and quickly changed out of my pajamas, into the normal clothes that I would be wearing for the day. As usual, I pulled an extra jacket over the ensemble for Jotunheim, which I would take off when I got to Earth. When finished, I knocked on the door, and Loki opened it from the other side, standing there, as I'd known he would be.

He gave me a look, then led me into a different room; one of the smaller council rooms, with the black stone table that shone in the dim light of the ice above. I sat down at one end while Loki sat on the other and pushed a piece of parchment towards me.

I studied the curling script for a moment. "You bought Puck." It probably should have been an exclamation, but shock and denial made it flat.

"It was the only way," Loki confessed. He handed me a quill and a second piece of parchment; another form, another deal in curled script. This one had a signature on it already-Loki's- but another space was left unsigned. I knew immediately that it was my signature he sought. I took the quill as I read it over. "I thought that you should be the one to free him," he informed me. "After all, we can hardly advocate against slavery whilst we ourselves own a slave."

I looked up to him. Watched him for a long moment. "Agreed," I answered, dipping the quill in an inkpot and scratching out my name quickly (it is weird as hell writing with a quill, I'll tell you that right now). I pushed the paper back, then draped my arm over the table. "Why?" I asked. He knew that I was not questioning the decision to give Puck his freedom, but rather why he'd bothered to buy him in the first place, when we were already working so hard to abolish slavery entirely.

Loki sighed deeply and pulled a memory to the forefront of his mind; and thus, to the forefront of mine. I scanned it; the night before, when Puck had been beaten… my eyes hardened.

"And what exactly are we supposed to do, Loki?" I asked him quietly. "Look, I hate the idea of him being a slave, naturally. But if we sever his ties to his 'owner'," I did finger quotes. I still couldn't say it in a serious tone without vomiting. "Then where is he supposed to go? He'll have no home, no food, nothing. If thugs like that idiot from last night catch him again, they won't have any reason to stop; as it is, it would be too expensive for them to replace a slave." I folded my hands in front of me. "So what are we going to _do_ with him, Loki?"

The Trickster pushed a third piece of parchment forwards. "Teach him, naturally."

I scanned it. Scanned it again. And then I set it down. "And now I remember why I love you."

He grinned swiftly. "It will keep him in palace quarters, so he needn't leave for the city. And as he is technically in our employ, it will be clear that he is similarly under our protection."

"And, because it has everything to do with his power, and nothing to do with his blood lineage, people can't say that you're playing favorites with half-breeds." I nodded a few times, handing the paper back. "Well, they _can_ say it, and they can say it often and loudly, but hey, you're pretty much a walking controversy as it is."

He chuckled lightly, but his eyes remained solemn. "It will be difficult, to apprentice him while maintaining the crown. I will need… assistance."

"You'll have it," I promised. He smiled, half grateful, half wary. We were quiet for a long time.

"And if he turns traitor?" I asked quietly. "If your apprentice in magic turns against us?"

"Then he turns against us," Loki answered. "And we are left with half-breeds being distrusted."

I sighed deeply. "Yeah, I figured as much." I ran my hands up my face, my fingers through my hair. I left them there for a moment as I stared at the table. This _was_ a stupid move. Good stupid, yeah, no doubt about that, but still stupid. We still didn't know where Puck's loyalties lied, we still weren't sure if he could be trusted or not, and by buying, freeing, and training him in magic, we were inviting him deeper into our lives with no reassurance that he wouldn't turn it against us. Indeed, we were both fairly certain that he _would._ But protecting Puck had become one of our top priorities. It had become everything. We knew it was bad, knew that control over our own lives was slipping… but truthfully, what choice did we have? He was a half-breed in a world that detested half-breeds. We had to help him, if only to figure out why we wanted to do so in the first place…

I pushed the thoughts aside and stood. "He has new quarters?"

Loki nodded. "He is moving into them now."

"Good. I'll meet him there when I come back from school." I nodded at Loki, walking over to him and squeezing his arm just lightly. "Until then… well, he's your apprentice, not mine."

Loki sighed quietly, looking to the pages of parchment, with their curling scripts and life-changing promises. And, carefully, he pressed his fingertips against the final one, his signature burning into the page as magic sparked down his fingers, sealing the deal once and for all. From this moment on, Loki had another mage working for the crown; it was official, final, irrevocable. It sent shivers down my spine to think of it, but I forced myself to think of it regardless.

"Let us hope," Loki said quietly, gathering the pages together. "That this is not the mistake I fear it is."

I nodded grimly in return, then, running my hand over his arm and shoulders as I went, I left the room, to gather my things together, and ready myself for what lay ahead.

* * *

Puck had very few possessions; slaves were not allowed them, after all. But occasionally masters were kind enough to let them have such trivial things, and so it was unsurprising, when Puck asked to retrieve his. But he was no normal slave-indeed, he was not a slave at all- and so he had, perhaps, more than was normal. That was still not a great deal.

He gathered these few things together, things that meant nothing to no one, no one but him. Trinkets and baubles, charms attached to a thin leather cord that he had not worn before, for the sake of keeping them safe. Even now, he did not dare to wear it around his neck, as was its purpose. And, of course, there was the thin, sharp sliver of metal that he hid away inside the small cloth bag with it; the closest thing to a weapon he had. But it was all that he needed.

Perhaps the tooth that he kept hidden behind the door could be considered a weapon as well; it was sharp, from some animal unidentified. But that was not its function or purpose, though if he truly were a slave, that is likely what it would be thought of as. He collected all of these things from their various hiding places around the room and placed them inside the same cloth bag, tying it securely to his belt and feeling better for it. Leaving these things behind day after day had been… torturous. He sighed to himself, glancing to the mirror.

"Well," he said quietly, addressing his reflection with wistful red eyes. "The universe hasn't exploded yet."

When his reflection did not respond, he sighed heavily and turned away, muttering, "Guess I'm doing _something_ right."

He then snatched the final object from the room; a pendant, a small blue gem nestled inside a bronze casing. The gem was pale and glowed with a soft light; the indication that its owner was still alive. This object was not his and, as he stepped outside, he tossed it towards the person in whose hands it belonged; at least for now.

The giantess-his former 'master'- caught the pendant. Seeing its glowing heart again, she swallowed tightly. In truth, it belonged to her son; and that jeweled heart was tied to his, the proof Puck had given that he was still alive.

"There's a rock formation a day's journey north of the city," Puck informed her curtly. "Two days west of that is an ice forest. Your son is in a cave at its farthest south edge. He has kept himself alive, and will continue to do so until your arrival." He had been walking towards the door; and now, upon reaching it, he turned to her. "Satisfied?"

She swallowed again. There was unmasked fear in her eyes. "So this _is_ what you wanted," she breathed in a quivery voice. "You wished to become the king's apprentice. You knew that they would free you. You knew what they would do."

Puck met her gaze evenly. He truly pitied this giantess. It was not her fault that she had fallen into this role; and he disliked the necessity to use her in the way that he had. But it was what had to be done. Still, it spurred him to honesty now; simply because he respected her enough not to lie. "Aye," he answered. "I knew."

She seemed to go pale. The words sucked out all bravado that she may have once had, and now she stumbled back, falling into a seat nearby. "Then I have aided a traitor," she said softly. "I am an adjunct to your treason."

Puck sighed quietly. "I know that you will not believe me, as you have yet to do so… but I do not mean to harm our king, nor our que… future queen."

"Then you merely wished to move up in the world?" The giantess asked, her words abruptly poisonous. "To become the king's apprentice, where you could not be touched, despite your heritage?"

Puck sighed again. "I mean to protect them." He turned away, opening the door. 'But as I said. You will never believe me, regardless of what I promise."

And then he was gone, walking through the door. He did not say goodbye. He did not thank her for what she had done or tell her that he would remember it. That would have been seen as an insult. The ultimate of insults.

His newer quarters were humble, but only in that they were currently unfurnished. As he entered, he saw only a chair and a simple bed. It was fine. It was perfect, actually. The Jotun sentries who stood guard across the palace watched him warily, some with decidedly ugly sneers on their faces… but he had become immune to them. That was, perhaps, the hardest part about his transition here; becoming immune to the pure hatred flung in his direction. The loathing in all eyes…

 _But the Shadowslayers never change,_ he mused, somewhat sadly. _They will always be this way, I suppose._

He straightened a little. The thought made him feel a touch… stronger. Prouder. Braver.

He saw a mirror in one section of the room, and again caught sight of his reflection. _Yes,_ he thought to himself. _I must be doing_ _ **something**_ _right._

After all; the universe hadn't exploded yet.

* * *

 _Mall, five o'clock tomorrow. You in?_

I stared at the note that Tiff had pushed onto my desk for a very long time. I was in the middle of a test and had absolutely no time to be gawking at this sudden, unanticipated invitation. But I couldn't help but gawk nonetheless, and a stupid grin was threatening to break out on my face. How long had it been, since I'd gone to the mall? I'd been, what? Nineteen?

No, I knew I'd gone a few times since I'd met the Avengers… but not that often, and never with someone else. Never with anyone who wasn't an Avenger themselves. I scribbled out a quick answer, double-checked that the professorwasn't looking, and passed it over to her.

 _Anyone else going?_

 _Just us,_ she answered a few seconds later. _I wanted to go with a friend, but she bailed._

 _So I'm your second choice?_

 _I don't really see you as having an issue with that. We haven't exactly known each other for long, after all._

I smiled. That was true; we'd barely talked once or twice in class, though I'd liked her pretty immediately. Not like Puck, but like a normal person might like another normal person. _Five o'clock. Meet you there._

She gave me a stifled little smile and turned back to her test as she tucked the note into her pocket. I tried to focus, knowing that this was a somewhat important grade, but I was on cloud nine. None of my normal college friends had bothered to talk to me much, or invite me anywhere. We had conversations and talked like the old days, but I'd been so focused, seemed so intense, that they tended to leave me alone. I tried to give it time-I'd only been back in college for a few weeks, after all- but it was still frustrating.

Well, at least Tiff was bored enough to invite me along. As class went on I alternated between happiness and awkwardness, embarrassment and ecstasy. I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to 'friends'. Not normal ones. Not _human,_ _ **mortal**_ ones. Not non-spy ones.

I was gonna botch this. Badly.

I sighed to myself when the test- and the class- finished, and walked out the door, giving Tiff an answering smile as she shot one towards me. Well, I'd known that college wouldn't be easy. There was nothing for it but to try and be as normal as I possibly could.

I gnawed on beef jerky as I headed towards where Jade, Benny, and two other students whose faces I knew but names I didn't, were waiting. They all smiled at me and said hello, and Benny even gave me a swift hug. He'd kept true to his word, and hadn't yet said anything about the scars on my arms, or anything about my torture. Which was good, because if he'd have told, at this point, I don't know who would have killed him first: me, or Loki, who was already antsy about letting someone outside of our circles know anything about what had happened. Too much risk of them telling someone else.

The two students I didn't know were in heated discussion with Jade. "Natalie, Natalie, help me out here," She said quickly, gesturing to the tablet on the table, the little wireless keyboard in her lap. "I have to e-mail this assignment within an hour, I have no freaking idea how to start it. You're good with English, right?"

I shrugged mildly, glancing over her shoulder at the words she'd written. It was choppy, not structured well enough to be even a draft; so notes, then. I scanned them quickly. "What's the assignment?" I asked, feeling both a little, stupid glow of pride that I'd been asked and a bit of pressure to say whatever was right. It was stupid to feel either way; she was just asking whoever was around. She was desperate, and if they could help, she wanted help. She _needed_ help.

"Personification," she answered swiftly. "We have to do a whole essay describing some inanimate thing as a person."

"Any inanimate thing?"

She shook her head. "Death. I gotta personify Death. And I can't do a cheesy grim reaper thing, either, it's gotta be original."

I almost laughed. Hey, an assignment I would've been good at. Why did those always go to the other students?

"I'm telling you, Death is a big, muscley dude who gets what he wants and takes _no_ flack from _no_ _one_ ," one of the students that I didn't know said. "Easy essay, two minutes, you're done."

"That doesn't _give_ me enough," Jade whined.

"Death ain't a dude, man," I answered, falling into casual speech as I flopped down onto the chair beside Jade. "Death is a chick. Pale as a bone, emaciated as hell, with a sick little laugh and a desperate desire to find the peace that she gives her victims."

A lot of eyes went to me. Benny lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, crap, I've got chills," Jade said eagerly, leaning forwards over her keyboard. "That's actually pretty good. What else you got, Nat?"

I listed a few more facts, adding a few 'umms' and 'ehhs' to make it sound as though I actually had to think about it. "She's got… um, black hair, black eyes? She's short, too."

"No, I don't think so," Jade countered. "Tall, but thin kinda tall, you know?"

I shrugged and tried not to let it bug me. So what if she was badly characterized? She was already dead and buried. "Um, maybe she wears a cloak?" Fraye didn't always wear cloaks, but sometimes.

"Nah, too reaper-ish," Jade shook her head. The two of us fell into discussing it while she tapped out a few more notes and finally reported that she had enough for the first draft; which was what she was meant to send in. I grinned and let her borrow my headphones so that she could drown out the noise of the rest of us with music.

"Pretty bone-chilling shit," A voice said suddenly- well, suddenly to the others, I'd seen her a few minutes ago- as Tiff walked up next to us and sat down. She looked to me. "You know a lot about Death, huh?"

"We're old friends," I answered cavalierly. There was no joke in my tone, but everyone took it as one as I took a bite of the sandwich that I'd brought with me. "You?" I asked innocently.

She shook her head. "Nah. Sheltered life, you know?" She gave me a grin and looked to the others. "Tiff," She introduced to their confused faces.

"She's in my Danish class," I informed them.

"And your Psych class. I sit in the back."

I looked to her. I knew this, of course, but it wasn't something normal people would have noticed; because she tended to stick to the back. "You're in Psych?"

"Yep. Gonna be a shrink someday." She gave me a toothy smile. "You know, maybe. I've been flip-flopping."

I laughed quietly. Some people did that. They didn't know what they wanted to do with their lives… Well, I'd hardly put 'Queen of Jotunheim' on my 'what I want to be when I grow up' essays when I was little…

I guess I wasn't what I'd wanted to be all that time ago, either.

"Benjamin," Benny introduced himself, and then the others. I tried to make note of the other two students' names, even knowing that I'd forget them soon. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," Tiff answered, taking a bite of her sandwich. And suddenly, that was that. I knew immediately that she would become a feature at our table and our group for the rest of whatever time she spent here. I glanced at her, trying to figure out how she fit in. With her orange-red lipstick and crazy hair, her bangles and her abrupt way of speaking.

I settled back and smiled to myself a little. She'd be fine.

After all, she was normal.

* * *

I knocked gently on the door, being overly cautious about startling the person inside the room. "Banner?" I asked in a quiet voice, keeping it soft and a little bit soothing. Just in case. "Bruce?"

After a few more quiet calls, he seemed to recognize that I was there, and turned away from the computer screen in front of him, turning to me with a smile. "Hey, Natalie," he said. "How'd the test go?"

"Oh, you know, I'm sure I failed miserably," I said, though I wasn't certain what grade I might have gotten yet. I sat down across from him. "Listen… I was wondering if I could talk to you."

He caught my tone and shifted, swiveling his chair completely in my direction, taking off his glasses, and tucking them in his shirt. Leaning back a bit, he said, "Go ahead."

I paused. "I… um… it's probably more Tony's field of expertise," I admitted. "But… It's really kinda personal, you know? Not really something…" I twisted my hands. "Not really something I wanna talk to him about."

He leaned forwards, nodding a few times in understanding, getting a little closer, as though this were a conspiracy. "I'm listening," he said, in a slightly kinder and quieter voice.

I chewed on my lip for a moment, considering, then finally said, "It's about the nanos." As Bruce's eyebrows went up, I said, "Part of their job is to heal things, right?"

He nodded his affirmative.

"So, they repair damaged tissue, right?" Another nod. "And… get rid of foreign elements?"

"Where is this going, Natalie?" Bruce asked, in his ever-calm tone of voice. It was always so stable and steady, so clinical. Sorta science-y. Everything with him was about rationale and reasoning. It made it easier to talk about this sort of thing without feeling overly concerned; it was like talking to a doctor, because they'd heard it all. I guess he _was_ a doctor. Maybe that's how he learned to control the Hulk. I fought a smile at the thought, brought back down to earth as I tried to think of the phrasing.

"Okay, okay," I said quickly, trying to calm myself a little more. "I just… I was wondering. Those foreign elements, would the nanos… would they view a…" For some reason, I was blushing. This shouldn't have been embarrassing at all; so why was it?

"Would they view a…" I swallowed, and my voice lowered drastically as I said, " _Pregnancy_ … that way?"

Bruce's eyebrows shot sky-high. His eyes darted to my stomach and back. "You're not…" he started.

I cut him off with wide eyes. "No! No, no, no, definitely not! No!" He seemed to let out a sigh of relief, which made me curious. He'd been all right with me and Loki getting married-at least, compared to the other Avengers, he'd been all right with it- so why would a pregnancy be different? Well, it _was_ rushed. And we _weren't_ married yet. I flushed an even brighter, hotter red. Okay, actually, it made a lot more sense now, why his shoulders were slumping with such relief.

"No, I'm not… no." I said, the back of my neck on fire. "I just…" I hesitated. "We were talking about it. About kids, you know? 'Cause pretty much all of Jotunheim has already married us in their minds, and is already imagining what our kids look like and how they'll rule and it's kinda… well, it makes _us_ think about it too, you know?"

Bruce nodded, seeming a great deal reassured. "Of course," he said calmly, as though this all made perfect sense and he was just grateful that it did.

"So… you know, we talked about it, and… well, we just don't know if… you know, the nanos." I looked down. "We don't know if I _can_ have kids, you know what I'm saying?"

He nodded again, a little more slowly this time. His eyes seemed distant as he considered this latest problem, thought over this newest science dilemma. "I understand," he agreed slowly. "It's… well, it's not something I considered before." He looked up to me. "I'll have to look at some of Stark's old notes. But it's really not my field, Natalie. And if he put something in the nanobots to ensure that… well, that this wouldn't happen, I'm not sure he would have put them in his notes to begin with." Shrugging helplessly, he added, "I'll do my best, but you may have to talk to Tony directly."

I grimaced. "Urgh. Really?"

Bruce smiled softly. "He's not so bad. You know, sometimes."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know." I sighed and stood. "Can you just… let me know? I mean, I'll talk to Stark if you don't find anything, but…"

"I'll do my best," Bruce promised. I smiled and sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Banner."

"Of course, Nata-"

He was cut off abruptly when Tony burst in the room, grinning wildly. "Hey, Pizza Girl! Get down to the training room; Hawkeye's getting his ass kicked!" His smile was large and infectious.

"Hawkeye?" I asked, standing. "Clint's back?"

"Came back yesterday!" Tony told me, still smiling hugely. "Come on, Nat, pick up the pace!" He turned and bolted. I exchanged a glance with Bruce, who smiled wryly at our teammate's behavior. I rolled my eyes and followed Stark; I wasn't in such a big rush. Even though Tony's words had indicated a battle between Clint and some unknown foe, I wasn't overly concerned. Tony had been smiling, and besides, the Hawk could take care of himself.

We took the elevator and arrived at the training room a few moments later, Tony shifting from foot to foot like an impatient kid. Considering the questions I still had to ask of him, and looking at him now… well, let's just say that I hoped Bruce got the information I wanted first.

Tony bolted as soon as the doors opened. I followed at a slower pace, and saw Natasha sitting on the nearby platform, watching the goings-on with an even expression and the barest hint of a smile in her eyes. The rest of the training room had only Clint and, to my great surprise, Puck. The two were standing a few feet away from each other, bows in hand, firing at targets on the far end of the room. Clint, of course, never missed. Puck, however, did not appear to be missing, either, to even more surprise. I watched the two.

"Puck?" I asked, confused. Before I could call to him and disturb his concentration, however, Natasha answered my unspoken queries.

"He arrived here for you," she told me. "Loki sent him. He's been here for a while now; he and Clint started talking about archery and, well…" She shrugged, watching the two again. "One thing led to another."

I frowned: why would Loki send Puck? But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Loki had a lot to do during the day. Having an apprentice was just one responsibility in a list of hundreds. He could not ignore his duties any longer, not like he had whilst wearing the Midgardian crown. He had to pay attention to what he was doing; and so he had sent Puck here on a pointless errand, perhaps in the hope that the Avengers could baby-sit. Even if he _was_ a traitor, there would be no safer place for him to be, particularly with the Hulk in the Tower.

I smiled softly and sat down, watching the two archers work. I was stunned by how good Puck was; and he kept pace with Clint, though did not actually surpass him, and he was not doing so without considerable difficulty. I knew Clint was taking it relatively easy on the kid; relatively, but not completely.

I watched the two on the edge of my seat, fingers clinging to the bench beneath me as they fired arrow after arrow. Surprisingly, I found myself silently rooting for Puck, not Clint. I was amazed by it, but found myself more swept up into the competition because of it.

It was a long time before Puck, cursing even as he released the bowstring, missed the center of the target and hit its edge instead. He lowered his bow as Clint fired one final time-hitting dead center- and turned to the half-breed with a grin. Puck wiped the back of his neck off and smiled weakly back.

"You truly are a skilled archer," he admitted, handing Clint the spare bow. Clint accepted it.

"The best," Clint corrected with a cocky tilt of the head. "But you're not so bad yourself. Who taught you?"

Puck's answer was accompanied with a wry twist on his already odd smile. "The best," he answered simply. Clint laughed.

"Oh, so you still think there's someone better?"

"I do," Puck answered.

"Tell you what, then, next time, bring him here. I'd love to put him in his place, too."

For some reason, Puck seemed to be struggling very hard to keep from laughing. "I'm certain that you would," he answered, the words holding an unexpectedly mocking edge. He seemed much more relaxed around the Avengers, much more casual, looking them in the eye without problem and standing taller than I had ever seen him. It did me good, to see the kid standing so proudly. His smile died after a moment. "I would bring him here, archer, but unfortunately… he died. Many years ago."

There was a brief silence following the word, as there always tended to be, when someone spoke of the death of someone they knew. Clint put a hand on Puck's shoulder. "Tough breaks." He said, his words a little more sincere then I'd expected. "Sorry."

Puck gave him a tired smile and seemed to catch sight of me at last. His red eyes widened. "Lady Frost!" He sputtered out, then bowed quickly. "My apologies, I was meant to-"

"I know what you were supposed to do, Puck," I said, rolling my eyes and holding up a hand, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. It was bad enough when he bowed to me and acted all subservient on Jotunheim, where it was expected. But in front of the _Avengers?_ A pit formed in my stomach as Tony started to hide laughter. "And don't worry about it. I wasn't going to leave until you finished your little tournament with the Hawk, anyway." I glanced to Clint, smirking as I walked up towards them all. "Stark made it sound like he was wiping the floor with you," I said.

"Well, I was taking it easy on him, until I realized how good he was," He answered, shooting a look in Puck's direction. His eyes were on the ground, and he was still half-bowed towards me, looking a little frightened.

"Yeah, about that," I said. "Why didn't you tell me you could shoot, kiddo?" I paused. "Also, what did I say about you _bowing_ all the time?"

He straightened quickly, his hand going to his throat. When he saw my raised eyebrow, he lowered the hand and swallowed warily. "Slaves are not meant to have knowledge of weaponry," he said quietly.

"Well, you're not a slave anymore, are you?" I asked, leaning on my left foot. "You're pretty good. Who taught you?"

"My frie- My father."

That was a lie. That was a very obvious lie. "Okay. Who really taught you?"

He swallowed, looking as though he was cursing silently in his head. "A friend, my lady. A Midgardian."

I lifted my eyebrows. "A human?" I asked. "That's unusual."

Puck's eyes slid to Clint. "Apparently not, m'lady."

Okay, that made me smile a little. "Fair point," I said, with a soft laugh. "Before you came to Jotunheim, then?"

"Aye, m'lady."

His story fit. It made sense. Except for one thing: why had he tried to lie? Why would he say that it was his father first, and his friend later?

But I didn't ask. Yet. He had lied, and it would be pointless of me to ask him now why he had lied; because he knew that I was onto him, and would have a lie prepared for such an occasion.

So instead I smiled at him and looked to the Avengers. "Well, I guess that's my cue to go," I said. "Come on, Puck." I walked with him towards the door, waving to the Avengers as I went. "See you tomorrow!"

They said farewells or nodded back, Natasha's eyes very intent on Puck as we left. Stark came with us to open the portal, and the two of us stepped through, to the usual fanfare of a headache that always followed. Puck winced a little, and I gave him a sly grin.

"You get used to it," I promised.

"I'm certain, m'lady," he answered cordially. I smiled and looked away from him, closing my eyes and searching out Loki's mind.

He was distracted, as he was usually distracted. But he spared a half-moment to greet me. _Lady Frost._

 _Laufeyson,_ I said, with just as much airy formality, mimicking his mental tone exactly. I looked through his eyes, seeing what he was doing, and smiled. _You look busy._

 _Fairly,_ he answered, allowing a bit of his tiredness to slip through.

 _And you have an apprentice whom you still haven't talked with much yet,_ I purred. It was a tease, and as Loki felt a little more weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders, I smiled. _Don't worry. I'll take care of it._

 _I suppose there_ _ **was**_ _a reason that I decided to keep you, mortal._ In the old days, that might have been a serious sentiment. Now, thankfully, not so much.

 _And a reason I decided to stick around,_ I countered with a grin. _Have fun!_

He gave a mental sound that was a weird mixture between exhaustion, mild disgust, and half-laughter, and then returned to his work. I opened my eyes again and looked to Puck.

"Come on," I ordered. "You have work to do."

* * *

It had been an accident, me learning that I could duplicate every last physical movement of magic that Loki knew. I'd learned while training with him and the Avengers, and it had greatly attributed to my fighting style. If I were immortal, and had any degree of magic whatsoever, I could easily become a powerful mage myself; my knowledge of it, after all, was quite extensive. But I wasn't, and so instead, I used that knowledge to help Puck: because those who can't do, teach.

Puck was a fast learner. He went through the motions and made them familiar quite quickly. By the end of the lesson, the flames on the ends of his fingertips were learning to obey him; and despite him accidentally catching fire to something, which we'd all pretty much expected, he was able to extinguish it with a little bit of work. It was just the start-flames could almost be considered a parlor trick- but it was something. And I didn't want to get too much into the heavier aspects yet; he was a beginner, and I was not his true teacher. His true teacher was the King; though, in some ways, I suppose that would still mean me. I was, after all, Loki's other half, as far as magic was concerned…

I finally left a half-smiling Puck in his quarters, walking back to my own. My mind was racing, hard at work, planning out the next days-in case Loki was busy again- so I almost didn't notice Sigil until I ran directly into him.

"Training the boy in magic?" He asked quietly.

I blinked. Twice. And then I looked up to him. "It seemed the best course of action," I admitted.

"He is not worthy of your trust, my lady," another voice joined in. Avalon, coming up behind me. I jumped, and it took all of my willpower not to flare the bubble and send a shaft through her throat.

"He may be a half-breed, and you may sympathize with him because of it," Sigil added quietly. Avalon carried on where he left off, finishing his sentence.

"But that does not make him your ally," she said in a quiet, warning voice. "Nor should he spend his time so close to the king."

The way they were speaking, the way they had begun to circle me, set me on edge. I straightened, my hands tensing at my sides as I took control over my emotions. Keeping them in line, to allow my force field to flare, should things become dangerous. I kept my eyes on each of them as often as I could, though they made it difficult to focus on more than one of them at a time.

"This was the King's decision," I told them both coldly. "And if the situation gets out of hand, as you suggest, then it is the king's responsibility to control it. And I'm certain he will be able to." I turned a glare to Sigil as Avalon disappeared behind me. "And he was not selected for his heritage. The king knew of his power, as I'm certain you did." I tilted my head to the side. "Or are you not such powerful mages as you claim?"

"We saw his power," Sigil answered, rolling with the accusation easily.

"We saw what he could become," Avalon chimed in. Their voices were almost a completely uniform hiss. And on it went, the two speaking the same words from two mouths, as though they shared a link as Loki and I did, as though their telepathy was as strong as ours. It wasn't. I knew it could not have been.

Sigil was next. "It is not his power we doubt."

Avalon. "It is his _worthiness."_

Sigil. "There is something _wrong_ with that half-breed."

Avalon. "Something vile."

"Something that should not exist."

"Something that rebels against our universe."

"Our king has sensed it."

"And thus, so have you."

The two stopped abruptly in front of me, eyes burning. They were trying to intimidate me, I realized suddenly. They were trying, and on anyone else they would have succeeded. It was nerve-wracking, the way they spoke, chilling, the way their voices were such the same… it was a masterpiece in the art of intimidation, and they were both great artists… but I knew one better. And to me, they looked as they were: snakes, making threats and baring fangs that they knew they would not strike with.

"We have," I agreed, holding my ground and meeting each of the twins' eyes in turn. "And did it never once occur to you that this was the reason we decided to free him? That Loki chose him as an apprentice?"

"It did," the two chimed as one. "But it seemed…" their voices split. Sigil finished with, "Reckless."

I smirked. "Reckless, perhaps. But not uncalculated." I looked to them both. "There is a saying on Midgard: 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'." I walked past them, refusing to stay trapped inside of their circling if they decided to start again. I meant to keep walking, but I couldn't resist. I half-turned to them both and gave them a wicked grin. "Why do you think we keep you around?"

The two both smiled as one. It was a smile of appreciation. Of acceptance. This was their language, and I spoke it well. As I turned, I pretended not to hear their quiet response.

"And why, my lady," They said, again as one. "Do you think that we keep _you?"_

* * *

"I'll have them flogged," Loki said through his teeth. "Both of them. Repeatedly. Publicly."

"You'll do no such thing," I said, my words a little more temperate as I gently unclasped his cloak and set it aside, then ran the fingers of both hands through his perfectly slicked-back hair, mussing it up just for the hell of it. He let me do so; mostly because he was seething too badly to react against it. And because the touch kept him rooted, so that he did not have to resort to violence to do so. "You need them. You know you do."

"I do not serve them," Loki growled. "Nor their interests. _I_ am the King; not those… those stunted _twins!_ "

"Think carefully who you're calling stunted. They're almost the same height as you."

Loki didn't seem to have heard me. I was busy trying to get the armor off of his shoulder as he threw his hands up. "And calling _you_ their enemy… they've not the right to speak ill of you. After everything you did for this planet… they should be on their knees, not spitting in your face!"

He started striding forwards, to my annoyance. I scowled and followed him, gripping him by the shoulder and pulling him back so that I could remove the armor, saying through my teeth, in one frustrated breath, "Would-you-please-keep-still!"

He stopped moving. I started working on the ties again. "And if they _were_ on their knees, I'd probably view that as the worse insult." I informed him primly. "Loki, you know how they think. You know how they talk to people. Threats are just their way of relating." I pulled the armor off and set it aside, looking him in the eye when I turned back. "Besides. I pretty much called them my enemy first."

"And they hardly refuted you." Loki snapped out the retort.

"I didn't expect them to," I said, calmly, soothingly. I kept my hand on him; not physically restraining, but enough of a symbolic gesture that it might almost act that way. "I'm not going to let you hurt them, Loki. You've seen those scars; they've been hurt enough. It's only natural that anyone outside of themselves is seen as their enemy." I gave him a very pointed look. "You did that once, too, as I recall."

He gave me a look in turn. The irritation in his eyes seemed to swell momentarily, and then partially die down. "If you were not here…" he started, his words a growl.

"If I wasn't here, you wouldn't feel so threatened by them," I said coolly, cutting him off. "And even if you did, you would not feel it entirely necessary to cause them bodily harm." I gave him a little quirk of an eyebrow. "But as it is, I _am_ here, and you are not going to have them imprisoned, flogged, killed, or punished in any other way." I met his eyes, folding my arms. "Are you?"

Loki gritted his teeth and glared in the opposite direction. "No," He grumbled out the single syllable.

"Good." I said, nodding once again. "Then, with that discussed, we can get on to other matters." I lifted myself onto the counter and sat there, kicking my feet. It was, surprisingly, one of my favorite seats in the place, that counter. It was easy to jump down off of and get a running start, and relatively close to the door; while at the same time letting me keep my eye on said door. "Such as Puck."

Loki rolled his eyes and sighed with much exasperation. "He's a talented mage," he said, speaking of the memory he'd already seen, of me training Puck and him catching on quickly. "We already knew as much."

"He's also a skilled archer," I said, giving Loki a steady, even look. He blinked. _That_ did surprise him; at least a little. He frowned in concentration, then settled back into his chair, lacing his fingers together, thinking as I pulled the memory to the forefront of my mind.

He scanned it, taking careful note of Puck's stance, his posture, his focus and concentration. Loki swallowed, mildly awestruck. "With the right weaponry in his hands, and the right training…"

I nodded. "That's what I thought," I admitted. Magic was a weapon in and of itself in many ways; but weaponry could do a great deal to enhance it. Thor's hammer, for instance, or Loki's staff; both had qualities that made them intensely useful magical weapons. "And, since he is _your_ apprentice," I went on, "It is kinda your duty to _give_ him that training."

There was a long silence. Loki looked down.

"I know," I said after a moment. "I'm not sure about it, either."

"To give him weaponry that he may turn against us?" Loki sighed and shook his head. "It seems… rash. Reckless."

"I know."

"Arrogant, even."

"I know."

There was another silence. I shifted a bit on my counter, bringing my hands close to the sides of my legs so that I could swing them a little faster.

"We're going to anyway though, aren't we?" I asked, studying my shoes. "I mean… he's got us wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?"

He was silent. I sighed heavily. "What _is_ it about that kid? I just…" I held my head in my hands, pressing my palm heels against my temples as hard as I could. Like I was trying to squeeze an answer out of my grey matter. Maybe it I put enough pressure on it, the solution would pour out in brain juice from my ears. "I want to help him. I want to do everything for him. I want to give him _everything_ he wants, everything he needs, and I feel like… like I can trust him with _anything._ " I looked to Loki with wide, pleading, helpless eyes. "And logic… logic says not to trust that. Logic says to get the hell out of Dodge. But no matter how hard I try, no matter how suspicious I get, I just can't seem to let him go. I can't… can't do _anything_ to get rid of him!" I think part of me was scared as I admitted, "It's like… it's like he's in my head. Like he managed to get past all the telepathic defenses and root himself in my mind and if I try to get him out…" I trailed off. There were no words to describe the horror of trying to remove Puck from where he had placed himself in my mind.

"It's not magic."

I looked up to Loki. The statement had been so sure, so certain. He sighed heavily. "Whatever he is doing, it is not magic. I have tried again and again to determine its cause, and countless times, I have sensed… nothing. Whatever power he holds, it _is_ not and has _never been_ magic."

I looked down. "So what is it?" I asked in a murmur.

"I don't know." Loki sighed again, even deeper this time. "I truly do not know."

We were quiet for a very long time, falling into our respective thoughts concerning the half-breed.

Finally, sighing once again, I pushed the thoughts aside. Loki did the same, looking up to me. "We're not going to figure it out now," I said tiredly. "Some other day. If he is a traitor, then he'll reveal his true colors soon enough."

Loki considered, watching me for a long moment. But then he nodded once. "Aye." He agreed.

The two of us again were quiet. And, for the rest of the night, we said not a word about the twin mages, the half-breed, or our own treacherous emotions.

* * *

 _Oh, realms. Not again. Please not again._

I was running. Flying down the hall. My heart was pounding in my ears and my every breath was coming in gasps and I couldn't stop, because there was darkness, there was darkness everywhere, and I just had to get somewhere, find somewhere safe, somewhere that I could hide from the woman who I knew was hunting me down. But how can you hide from that which lurks only in your mind?

Besides, she was dead. She was dead and still hunting me; so how does one hide from a Ghost?

Loki knew about Ghosts, knew about the coldness they left in a room and the things they rearranged when you were not in the room, or the way they used you to rearrange those things when your memory was gone and your mind numb… he knew about Ghosts, had lived with the Ghost of April Blackthorn for so long… and she could hurt him. She could injure him. He had no doubt that if she wanted him dead, she could have killed him. But he had never been able to lay a hand on her.

And now Fraye's ghost was coming for me. I was sure of it. And I couldn't even kill her this time.

Was it just Fraye? Was it only her specter? I turned the corner and pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering. Perhaps it was _her_ ghost, the one that lurked in _her_ mind, the ghost of her brother. Perhaps he had come for me, because I had killed his sister. Perhaps all of these phantoms and specters and ghouls were hunting me down. Perhaps Fraye wished to make me a ghost beside her, so that I could haunt others, hunt down those who had wronged me in life, an endless cycle of death and phantoms and whispers.

 _Oh, no. Oh no oh no, please, no, please, Fraye, I'm sorry._

I was lying to her. I wasn't sorry for what I did. Some days I wished I was. Maybe then she wouldn't haunt me. Maybe then she wouldn't try to chase me down. Maybe she would have let me be if I had remained human.

 _Is it not enough that I am a monster? Now you wish for me to become a ghost as well?_

By all the _realms,_ my chest hurt. It screamed. My heart pounded and my lungs gasped and I was running again, navigating the maze of a castle, the rodent in the maze, searching for the cheese and safety and finding only the walls and their stinging electric shock of fear every time I hit a dead end…

And that _laugh._ That laugh was in my head. That laugh was in my scars. No; no, it was in the undamaged skin, because the scars were the only part of me that was whole, they were the only part of me that was real. I was comprised of the broken, bleeding, scabbed tissue, born in the damage, born in the blood that had preceded and followed the carnage in my skin.

I didn't feel safe when I stopped; I just couldn't run any longer. I tripped on something-my own two feet, most likely- and fell to my hands and knees, scraping them against the stone and ice. I scrambled until I was against the wall and curled up there, gasping desperately. My eyes phased out. My mind turned to static. And there was fear, and there was pain, and then there was nothing. There was numbness, and numbness alone.

I sank into the nothingness, my mind turning itself off, switching channels, and I stared at nothing, regaining my breath without feeling it.

I stared without seeing the two pairs of eyes on me: one pair red, and one amber-black.

* * *

Fenrir's fingernails slowly elongated into claws as he watched me, silently. When he'd seen me running through the halls in such a crazed state, he knew it might be his best chance; though he despised not knowing more before he did so. He wished he knew more. He wished that he could be certain of whether or not the rumors were true; of whether you could destroy both Shadowslayers by taking out one, whether the mortal Shadowslayer had a power beyond what humans should be capable of, whether any of these tales and whispers had any base in truth.

But this was still the best chance he'd seen since his arrival. And so he had abandoned the Jotuns who were keeping him under watch-oh, he knew about that, knew they were following him, and he liked them there, where they could make the King and future Queen feel safe- and had tracked me down via scent. It had not been difficult; my flight pattern had been wild and erratic, perhaps, but it looped around on itself a few times, leaving Fenrir with some room for shortcuts. And he had followed them down until here he was, watching my breakdown.

His tongue ran across his teeth swiftly. He took a step forwards in the darkness, sniffing the air carefully.

He froze. He knew that scent…

He had just enough time to turn when Puck slammed into him.

The half-breed apprentice of the king drove Fenrir against the wall, where all of the air escaped him swiftly, leaving him gasping, choking, retching. Puck danced back as the shape shifter's claws came towards his ribs, nicking him just once and drawing blue blood. Puck's red eyes hardened as a thin sliver of metal floated up from his palm, splitting apart, into a thousand splinters, and began to drive themselves towards Fenrir.

The wolf cursed inwardly and dodged them as swiftly and assuredly as he could, all the while keeping his amber eyes intent on his original prey; I was still staring blankly in the distance. Their fight was far off and they were keeping it silent, and even if they were not, I would have noticed nothing. Fenrir whirled back to Puck and lost sight of me, turning a corner so that he could battle the half-breed.

The thin metal slivers came at him from all sides, moving and weaving about as Puck held his hands up, making them dance with careful hand movements, his fingers playing a marionette, pulling on the strings. A more complicated piece of magic than a beginner should have been able to do. More complicated than an apprentice should be capable of. Fenrir wove his way about through them gracefully, but a large number of them managed to slash across his skin, some of them driving themselves so deep inside of him that he had to cry out, if only softly. He bit down on his hand, hard, to keep from screaming, and blood drizzled down from his teeth.

Puck pulled his hands back, and the slivers flew with the movement, returning to his side. A few of them even wrenched themselves out of Fenrir to do so, and he gasped, biting down harder. The slivers gathered into a solid fragment of metal, barely two inches long and perhaps an inch thick, and Puck collected it in his palm with a cold, careful flourish of his fingers. His eyes remained on Fenrir.

"Must we continue so pointlessly?" Puck asked, lifting an eyebrow. He seemed rather bored. "This is tedious, Fenrir."

The shape shifter made a noise rather like an animalistic snarl as he ran off. Puck smirked, tucking the metal back into the cloth pouch. Wolves were wolves, no matter their form; and when they did not have the advantage, they were cowards.

He peered around the corner to look at me, curious as to what was actually happening, why Fenrir thought that this was the opportune time to strike…

"Oh," he said the word in a sigh. It was bleak, a grey sound, full of recognition and melancholy. His eyes softened, the hatred melting away from his face.

Carefully, he took a few steps forwards, stepping into the light. I did not react as he walked up beside me. I didn't blink as he sat down next to me. I just kept staring into the distance.

And for the rest of the night, Puck stayed beside me.

* * *

"Wow, Natalie," Benjamin said with a roguish wiggle of his eyebrows. "Hot date tonight?"

I flushed, my face extraordinarily hot beneath the makeup that I had so painstakingly applied to my face. I looked down to my outfit- the one that I'd spent hours trying to figure out- and felt the heat spread down to my neck. I looked nice. I knew I looked nice, that was the point. But I'd been worried about this: worried that I may possibly just look a little itty bitty bit _too_ nice.

But it was the first time I'd gone out with a friend in ages. I didn't want to mess anything up. I wanted everything to be _perfect._

"I'm engaged," I told him primly. "And besides, I don't swing that way."

" _You_ could give it a shot, though," Tiff told Ben, materializing beside us and setting her tray down. She had a habit of doing that, appearing out of nowhere, and it startled everyone else; but I'd been spending so much time with people who could do that so naturally that I usually knew when she was there no matter what. She looked Benny up and down appraisingly. "If you swing this way, that is." She gestured to herself.

"Yeah, I'm straight," Ben promised, looking Tiff up and down. " _Totally_ straight." He added.

"You sure about that?" I teased with a grin.

"I asked _you_ out,didn't I?" he sniped. Then he paused, considering, and a little grin appeared on his face. "No, wait, sorry, you're right, that doesn't prove anything."

Tiff grinned as my eyes narrowed in slits. "You're a slimy little weasel, aren't you?"

He grinned, then looked to Tiff. "What about you? If I went out with you, what's your proof that you're not gonna abandon me for some other chick?"

Tiff looked at him, hard and long. For a moment, he swallowed, seeming to sweat. And then she moved closer to him, gripped him by the collar, and pulled him close, jamming her lips against his.

Nearby, a few other guys wolf-whistled. Everyone at the table laughed or choked on whatever food/drink was in their mouths at the time. Most of the girls stared and all of the guys started cracking up. I joined in, surprised by the intensity of the laughter that bubbled out of my throat. _Ben_ even stared at her for a long time, before he closed his eyes and went with it. It took her a while to separate away, breaking off and sitting back again, not releasing his collar.

"Woah," Benny said, looking half dazed. I buried my face in my hand to keep from laughing too hard.

"No, wait, sorry," Tiff said, releasing him. "That doesn't prove anything, either." She scanned the crowd as those who hadn't been laughing started.

"Hey!" Ben cried, offended. Tiff caught sight of one of the other students- a tall, buff guy on the football team- and she waved him down.

"Derek! Get over here!"

Ben shoved her hand down, his face burning a brilliant red as I almost collapsed out of my chair, clutching my already aching sides. I hadn't laughed like this in ages.

Tiff stopped trying to wave down Derek and grinned, sitting back a bit, tilting on the back two legs of her chair. It took me a while to register the murderous look on a few girls' faces, and I distinctly heard one of them muttering, "Sheesh, what a _slut_."

I flipped them off without looking in their direction and kept my eyes on Tiff instead. She wasn't paying attention.

"That said and done," she said to Ben. "We're going out on Saturday."

He paused. "I'm okay with this," he chimed after a moment, making everyone at the table laugh again. Tiff nodded and sat back with a self-satisfied grin. She looked to me after a moment and ran her eyes over me.

"You do look good, though," She said casually. "I like the shoes."

'I like the shoes'. Dear gravy. Was that what a normal compliment sounded like? I thought compliments were things like, 'Nice aim!' and, 'Well, that guy won't be walking again,' and, 'I love the grenade, it really sets off your eyes!'

"Thanks," I said, feeling a little awkward and blushing just a little too much. "We still on for five o'clock?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

We descended into normal conversation after that. Well, college normal, anyway. It was strange, the many, many standards of 'normal' that there were on Earth: maybe it wouldn't be too impossible for me to fit in, after all.

After school, but before five, I went to my parents' house, pulling off the engagement ring, as usual. They still didn't know. I still hadn't told them. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to tell your folks, you know? What was I supposed to say? 'Yeah, I know, he tore our family apart, put a few lesions in dad's brain, and made my life a living hell for a long time, but that's all good, cause he fixed that and now we're getting married? Oh, and he killed the person who I planned to be my maid of honor from the moment I learned what that term meant, so I might need help finding a new one'?

 _And that's another thought,_ I pondered as I looped Jekyll's leash in his collar. My mother was out of the house and my dad was in the middle of some paperwork for S.H.I.E.L.D., so after a quick greeting and a bit of reassurance that I'd wanted to go on a walk anyway, I decided to take Jekyll with me. Hyde wound her way around my legs a few times, just for the pleasure of gnawing on my shoelaces, as my mind turned to this new dilemma. _Who'd be my maid of honor?_

If I even had a maid of honor to begin with. We were already planning on making the wedding a bit of a blend between the ceremonies of three different worlds, which meant that there would be a few changes in the human stuff. Bridesmaids, the best man, the ring bearer and the flower girl… they might not be an issue.

Which was a good thing, because I didn't know who in the hell I'd get for the roles. Most of those _attending_ would not even be human; what few humans I still associated with did not have the clearance. Jotunheim was _classified._ Loki's very existence, since his attack on earth, was _classified._ So who, out of that suddenly very limited number of people, would I even want as… as a bridesmaid, as a flower girl, as a ring bearer? I mean, I had little cousins, but I think they'd freak if they ever saw a Frost Giant. Well, maybe not Amy. She was _too_ little; she'd probably think it was the coolest thing ever.

Still, I couldn't see S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioning that visit.

I sighed to myself as Jekyll bounded along the pavement, smelling all the interesting smells and occasionally winding his leash around my feet. His scarred muzzle still had a happy canine grin on it, despite his marks from battle. He still walked with a crazy spring in his step, despite his time as a warrior. Sometimes, I'd pay a lot of money to become a dog. They don't have stupid human worries like weddings and bridesmaids and parents not approving of your ex-villain fiancée. They don't even have legit worries, like worlds wars and Fraye n'shit. Food, water, shelter, love. That's all they needed, and they'd be happy; regardless of their pasts.

Man, I wished I could be that happy.

I shuffled on my feet, pulling my thoughts back to the wedding, which always made my stomach twist to think of. I knew it was a long way off, but I'd never even really _thought_ of my wedding, never really _planned_ it out. I mean, they say that all little girls have their picture-perfect wedding all mapped out in their heads from the day they're two, but they're full of it, because I was the type of person who _wanted_ to get married, and I _still_ didn't have any idea what I wanted on the actual _day._ I mean, if you were marrying the right guy, what did it _matter?_

Ugh, my head hurt. I stuffed my hands in my pocket, Jekyll's leash looped around my wrist so that I still had a hold on him. A maid of honor? I knew maybe _three_ women who had the clearance from S.H.I.E.L.D., and two of them were aliens. Not that I particularly _minded_ that part, but the only reason they even came close to consideration was because I'd known them a little longer than most of the others.

The first was Fera: the grey-eyed Healer from Asgard. I'd known her for what seemed like forever, but not exactly in the most friendly of terms, you know? She was just a Healer. A nice, kind Healer, maybe; but she had to be. That was her job.

The second: Avalon. Yeah, that was out. Again, I knew her well, I'd known her longer than most every other giantess, but _hello?_ _ **Avalon.**_ 'Nuff said!

The third, most obvious answer: Natasha. The one person out of the three that I trusted. I mean, I suppose I could ask Pepper or Jane, they were both nice, but the sick thing was, I was probably closer to the spy then I was either of them. I'd known her longer. We'd been through the apocalypse together. Twice.

Still, it felt weird, asking a super-assassin to be your maid of honor. Not that the wedding would've been normal, anyway. But that would've just been a whole new level of bizarre.

And how would Natasha even take it? I mean, would she even say yes? We weren't exactly BFFs, here. Though, admittedly, I liked her. I even did something stupid and trusted her. Because she was a spy. Because we _related._ We had things we could _talk_ about.

I finished my walk with these thoughts still buzzing in my head. It seemed strange to me, that when I'd first met the Avengers, I had mourned being able to talk about boyfriends and tests and grades, forsaking it in favor of talks about nanos and superpowers and mythology. And now I felt more comfortable talking about the latter any day of the week.

If I wasn't sworn off of drinking, I might have just poured myself a glass of vodka right then and there. Just to get rid of the headache, the stress.

I made it back home, and searched the house for my father; I found him a few moments later, trying to coax Hyde out from under the bed. He saw me and smiled weakly. "This cat is not outsmarting me, if that's what you're thinking."

I grinned. "I thought no such thing," I said, with mock-injured innocence. I ducked down to the bed, seeing Hyde's white paw and caramel-amber eyes gleaming in the darkness beneath it, but not seeing much else. She made a little threatening noise in the back of her throat, too continuous for a snarl and too feline for a growl.

"Hey, sweetie," I said quietly. I reached for my back pocket and pulled out a half-eaten packet of jerky; pulling a small piece out, I held it out under the bed.

The narrowed eyes grew wider. There was a plaintive mew.

"Don't bother," Cameron said. "I tried that trick already. She just swiped it out of my han-"

He was cut off as Hyde attacked my hand, claws digging in and teeth clamped over both my fingers and the small piece of meat in between them. I carefully pulled her out, and she went with it, not budging an inch, teeth and claws still digging in. She was getting bigger, so it was starting to hurt a bit more these days, but I just smiled softly and, pulling her close to my body, pried her jaws carefully off of my fingertips. She'd never be big enough to hurt me, I was certain; her formative years had been spent in malnourishment on the streets. She would always be a bit on the small side.

"Just gotta let her know who's boss," I said, scratching her behind the ears. She nipped the meat out of my hand.

"Her, apparently," my father said, bemused.

"Naturally," I answered breezily. "She is a cat, after all."

He chuckled. "Well, she needs her F-L-E-A Treatment, and she's giving me a really nasty time of it."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll take care of it," I promised. And I did, to Hyde's great protest and to the effect of a few more scratches on my arm. I washed them off and had them treated with a bit of hydrogen peroxide before five; and I was out the door and headed there early, saying goodbye to my father and my pets before taking the Frost-Cycle to the mall.

I locked it up and was only waiting for Tiff for about two minutes. She saw me at the front and waved.

"Thanks for coming with," She said with a smile. "It's boring when you're alone."

"Tell me about it," I said, rolling my eyes, though these days I found it almost easier when I was alone. Better than shopping with the Avengers. Whenever I dragged one of them along, it was the same story: Tony criticized everything (and drew a crowd), Banner got bored, Thor broke things accidentally (and also drew a crowd), Steve sorta stayed quiet and meandered, and the spies… I never asked the spies. I was never _that_ desperate.

And it wasn't like I could drag along my boyfriend, no matter how badly I wanted to drive him nuts with it. Granted, a lot of people hadn't directly seen his face and even more would not recognize him out of Asgardian regalia. But this was New York, where everything had gone down, and there was a lot more chance of someone recognizing him _here_ then there was anywhere else on the planet. And if he was spotted, Fury would kill me. Hand my head over to the Council, who'd wanted it for a great length of time now.

So it was me and Tiff, and I couldn't have been happier about it. "Where first?" I asked, walking backwards and hoping that she would tell me if I was about to run into anything.

She did, pointing me in the direction I needed to go. "Clothes," she said, very firmly, with much vehemence. "I have a date on Saturday, remember?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "You know, I've known Benny longer than I've known you."

"Yeah? And?"

"He's a good friend."

She caught my tone. "Ah, I get it. I break his heart, you break my fingers, right?" As I nodded, she grinned. "I admit to being a bit of a heartbreaker, but for once… maybe I'll go easy on him." She grinned at me. I raised the other eyebrow, keeping my face serious, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, spoilsport, I'll be nice."

"Thanking you kindly." I said, tipping an imaginary hat and turning around to walk normally again. We went through a few clothes stores, having Tiff try on a few things here and there. I felt nervous changing outside of my own house, but Tiff eventually shoved me inside a changing room with a gorgeous shirt and jeans, and since it was long-sleeved, I caved.

"I look good," I said, looking in the mirror in the center of the room, outside of the separate changing stalls.

"Red suits you," Tiff agreed, walking up next to me. She turned around, checking out her reflection from all angles. "What do you think? Purple, or blue?"

The blue looked strangely good with her red-brown hair, and I told her as such. "But the purple's nice, too."

"Blue," she decided at last, nodding once. And in the end, she walked out with a frilly blue top and some nice black pants, as well as some boots that I would kill to be able to wear, but as they had a small heel, I didn't dare to trust them. I didn't wear anything I couldn't run away in.

We went into another store, with a few fancier outfits, and she got a little pushier about me changing into dresses and stuff. She, surprisingly, tended to hand me long-sleeved things, which helped… but she saw the way my eyes kept going to a sunset-orange number with spaghetti straps on the other end of the room. It was short enough to run in comfortably, to fight in a little less comfortably… but beyond that, it was still beautiful. A little loud, _maybe,_ but beautiful. I swallowed and found myself looking at it often. Tiff ended up sneaking it in with my other outfits.

"If you like it, try it on," She said firmly. As I tried to protest, lying through my teeth about how it was a bad color for me, she shoved me through the changing room door and barked, "Try it!"

I rolled my eyes. It was something April might have done, or something I might have done to April. And I liked her, I wished I could like that trait, but as I slid into the dress and looked at myself in the mirror, I found that I hated her for it. I hated her for making me put this on, I hated her for not leaving well enough alone, I hated her, I hated her, I _hated her._

No, I didn't.

I hated the girl in the mirror.

The dress had been so pretty, on the clinical, flawless, featureless mannequin. It had been so nice, hanging up on a formless, shapeless hanger, amid row upon row of other beautiful dresses. It had been pretty and while it was there, I could almost imagine that I could look pretty in it.

Looking in the mirror reminded me: No. I couldn't.

There were tally-marks on my ankles, a word on my arm, and a few uglier marks on my shoulder, right where the strap rested. They were… disgusting. Some of them were nice and thin and neat, simple lines, but still others were thick and ropey, with ugly bumps here and there and a variety of damaged colors. The sunset orange colors of the dress made my semi-tan skin look so much paler, and my business style ponytail clashed with the whole outfit. The dress clung to my body, showing off the emaciated skin and bones and the wiry muscle that didn't look good; just… _different._

I wiped my eyes reflexively, though they were completely dry, and ripped the dress off as I heard Tiff say, "Well? Come on out, lemmie see!"

I scrambled for a lie. "It's too small," I grumped after a second.

"Really? Okay, wait here, I'll get a bigger size."

That was what a friend might do. What a _normal_ friend might do. "Don't bother," I said, trying not to snap the words out. "It doesn't look that good anyway."

"You sure?"

I glanced at the wreck in the mirror. Even without the dress, the Avenger looked hideous. "Positive," I said, with a bitter taste in my mouth, and pulled on another dress.

I was a little more silent following that, and when we finally changed back into our original clothes and walked out, Tiff seemed to notice my surly mood. She looked to me.

"Hey," she said, turning around and walking backwards, as I had earlier. "Are you mad at me or something?"

"What?" I looked up to her. "No. No, I'm not mad at you."

"You're acting like it."

"I'm not mad."

"You know how I know you're lying? You're telling me you're not mad."

"I'm _not!_ "

She stopped moving as my voice rose a little bit above acceptable levels. A few people glanced in our direction, turning away quickly, either embarrassed for us or not caring in the slightest. I stopped too, looking down and sighing.

"Okay, okay," I said in a mutter. "I'm sorry. It's not you I'm mad at, all right? I'm just…" I sighed deeply. "A little self-conscious, looks-wise, you know?" I rubbed my arm. "I don't really like dressing up all fancy-pants. Doesn't feel like me, y'know?"

"Really?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "I thought that was the point."

My eyebrows furrowed. I looked to her, curious. My eyes were a silent prod to go on, and she obliged.

"I mean, 'the clothes make the man', right? It's all an act, isn't it? You change into someone else whenever you put on an outfit, you change into whatever you wanna become." She shrugged. "That's what I do, anyway."

I thought back to it. And now that I considered it, a lot of her outfits _had_ seemed a little… costume-ish. A bit loud, even, in a lot of cases.

"It's like the theatre," she said, walking on with a little more bounce in her step. I followed along, a little more slowly. "I love the theatre. Studied it for a year, before I got bored." She looked at me sideways. "What about you? You like the theatre?"

The subject change was abrupt and unexpected; and it drew an honest response from me. Or at least, an honest joke. "I dunno. It seems kinda weird, paying people to li-" I stuttered on the word, realizing only now that the statement was almost out that this was not a joke that someone who loved the theater might appreciate. That it was the kind of joke I might tell around Natasha or Clint, but not someone… genuine. Still, it was too late to stop now, so, resigning myself to looking like an idiot, I soldiered on. "Paying people to lie to me. I mean, I get that every day, no need to waste my money, right?"

To my eternal surprise, she laughed, loudly. "That's one way of looking at it," She said with an enormous grin. I smiled back, a startled smile, and she nudged me in the arm. "Come on, let's check out that little place over there."

She pointed me in the direction of a small shop that wasn't such a big name; in fact, I'd never been inside. I frowned. "What does it sell?"

"No idea. Let's find out!"

Still a little stunned by Tiff's easy-going nature, I let myself relax just a little. It wasn't her fault that I was a bit damaged, a bit broken. She was just trying to do what friends did, not _trying_ to hurt me. So I gritted my teeth and followed her through, putting a plastic smile on my face.

We entered the little store, and Tiff whistled, a low, soft sound. "Okay," she said after a second. "Wasn't expecting that."

I wasn't either. The sign hadn't been exactly clear on what was in this place, and I saw that it was mostly abandoned. It was a small little store in the corner of the mall, and it consisted of little more than a counter and all of the stuff _behind_ the counter: namely, knives and guns. A few knives decorated the walls, with decorative handles and different lengths of steel, and I looked around, grudgingly impressed and mildly frightened because of how impressed I was.

"Oh, wow!" Tiff suddenly exclaimed, heading deeper inside. She crossed over to the counter. There was a man behind it, and she addressed him directly. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked, pointing at a blade up in the corner left of the glass casing in front of him. "I've been looking all over for this thing! I-" She froze abruptly, stopping. Slowly, she turned to me.

"I mean… heh… this place is scary?"

I stared at her. I legit _stared,_ for thirty seconds straight. She peeled her hands off of the glass and clasped them together behind her back, shuffling her feet a few times and looking at the ground.

"I'm not a freak or nothing," She mumbled. "Honest. I just… erm…" She looked a little lost. I didn't stop staring for a moment.

And then I walked up to the glass casing. Placing my palms on it carefully, I studied the blade for a moment. "Decent," I said slowly. "Looks a little on the heavy side." I scanned her quickly. "I don't think that'd be a problem for you, though. Wouldn't be good for throwing, but hand-to-hand would work out."

She looked at me. Her eyes widened. "I've got a few throwing knives," She admitted to me carefully. "I just need something for close range. You can't really get a lot of the good stuff without working for the cops or something."

I glanced to the blade. "That's a good choice," I said easily. "What about guns?"

"Three handguns," She confessed. "Registered to me and my parents. I still live with them, so…"

I grinned. "I've only got the one, but it works for me."

It was now _her_ turn to stare at _me._ After a moment, she took a few careful steps towards me. Her hands clasped mine, and she looked at me with wistful, awed eyes that seemed to almost sparkle, anime-style. "You're my new best friend."

I grinned. "Okay."

"Forever."

"Okay."

"I'm never letting you out of my sight."

"Considering the setting of this conversation, that's kinda creepy."

"I don't care."

I laughed, and after a moment, so did she. She let out a happy little squeak and threw her arms around me. "Do-you-know-how-freaking-long-I've-looked-for-someone-who-totally-doesn't-go-crazy-when-I-mention-guns?!" She demanded in one breath, squeezing all the air out of my lungs. The guy at the counter gave us a look, then turned away with an eye roll. Tiff pulled back after a moment, grinning like a loon.

"This is New York, they're not exactly gun-phobic."

"You'd _think_ so!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "But they all look at me like I'm crazy, but come on! Like you said: it's _New York._ It's self-defense, you know?"

I rolled my eyes, almost exasperated. "Tell me about it. It's like everyone thinks you're a psychopath just 'cause you wanna protect yourself." I had better reasons then most, but still.

She nodded, her head bobbing a few times. "Exactly!"

"Then I suppose you're interested?" The man behind the counter startled us out of our conversation, carefully removing the knife from said case.

"Abso-fragging-lutely!" Tiff chimed, pouncing towards the knife. She scanned it, and she and the man fell into conversation about it quickly, while he sang its praises and she took it in and asked questions about certain aspects. I found myself smiling. She'd leave with that knife sometime soon, I knew that.

And she did. She pranced out of that store like a kid on Christmas. "Did you freaking see how beautiful this thing is?" She cooed, and I found myself smiling hugely.

"She's pretty gorgeous." I admitted. "Gonna name it?"

"You name your weapons?"

"You don't?"

"Darla."

I laughed once. "From _Finding Nemo_?"

"No, but that works."

We laughed together, the two of us. And for the first time, as we fell into step beside each other, I found my own normal.

* * *

I fell back on the bed and letting out a happy sigh. Loki lifted his eyes from the work in front of him, peering over his book at me. He was sitting in the chair nearby, books strewn across the table in front of him.

"I take it everything went well?"

"Best day ever," I answered dreamily, staring at the ceiling, my arms at my sides, held out wide.

"She seems to share a few of your interests," Loki admitted, looking back to his book.

"She's into _guns,_ Loki! Guns and knives and… Yes!" I fist-pumped. He chuckled just lightly as I carried on. "I mean, I can go _shopping_ with her, proper shopping, clothes shopping, _weapons_ shopping…!"

"You have very little need for weaponry," Loki pointed out.

"Well, I do have a secret identity to protect. It'd make more sense if I shot an intruder in my Earth house then stabbed them with an invisible force field, right?"

"Perhaps."

"I think I might have a human friend, Loki. A proper, human, _mortal_ friend."

Loki smiled bemusedly at me, then returned to his pages. I stared blissfully at the ceiling for another few moments, feeling like I was floating a few inches above the bed. It was ridiculous of me to feel that way, to be so _deliriously_ happy about something so small and _stupid_ as one good shopping trip with one person who _might_ be a good friend… But I didn't care in the slightest. I hadn't done anything so _normal_ in _months,_ and I was _happy,_ because, for a moment, I felt _human_ again.

Loki's voice was a murmur as he turned his page, disturbing the happy silence that I'd fallen into. "That orange dress was beautiful on you, you know."

I froze. Lying there, I just froze. And then I sat up, creaking upright, like a vampire rising from a coffin in a cheesy black and white movie. "You peeked?" I asked, shocked and mortified. I hadn't left the changing room when wearing that orange dress, after all.

"Not intentionally," He said (though he seemed pretty unapologetic for something 'unintentional'). Carefully, he set the book down in front of him, slipping a maroon ribbon between the pages and closing the book with considerate hands. He turned to me once finished, meeting my eyes. "I always look into your mind from time to time, Frost, as I know you look into mine. Do not act so surprised."

I frowned, glaring in the opposite direction. "Yeah, but I was changing."

He gave me an _Honestly-Frost_ look. I didn't react to it, didn't look at him to see it. Instead I looked down at his name, written in my arm, and began picking at the scars there.

He was beside me after a moment, moving so silently that, if he were not in my mind, I would not have noticed his approach. Carefully, he lowered himself into a seat on the bed beside me, taking my hands in his, so that I could no longer pick at the scars. His fingertips traced up the letters carefully, and he placed his palm there, his long fingers wrapping around my arm gently, covering the word.

"You do not show them," he said quietly. "Even when you can, you try not to." I didn't respond. He carried on, "You flaunt them on Jotunheim, when there are people to see, act as though they are the badge of pride that most Jotuns believe they are. But when you are in the Tower, when you are at home, you hate to show them."

His other hand carefully gripped my chin between thumb and forefinger, lifting my face up to his. His eyes were solemn and stern. "Not even around me."

I pulled my head away. "I'm allowed, aren't I?" I asked, grumpily. "I don't like to see them, okay? I don't like seeing… what I became. And that dress just flaunted off every bad thing about me, you know?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that what you think?" He paused, then sighed and shook his head. "Then you and I saw very different things."

I frowned, looking at him. "There couldn't have been a whole lot of difference," I retorted. "If we were looking at the same thing."

His eyes narrowed and his head tilted and he got that itty bitty little smile that told me that I had just walked right into whatever web of words he had spun. "There couldn't?" He inquired. "Look before you, Frost. You see a Jotun." His eyebrows lifted. "Do you recall what I saw, in the days after we first met, when I looked at what you are seeing now?"

I started chewing my lip. I tried to look down at my hands, but the little jerk wouldn't let me. His thumb and forefinger took my chin again. His red gaze held a silent lecture all their own. "I saw a monster, Frost. And you saw beauty. Now you look into the mirror at your own reflection, and you see a monster." He had gotten a little closer, so that his forehead touched mine, briefly; but now he moved closer still, his cheek brushing against mine as he whispered in my ear. His breath was cold. "Shall I tell you what I see?"

I shivered. I wanted so much to listen to his voice. To let him reassure me, to let him make me feel like the two situations were the same, that this creature that I'd been _created_ into was the same as the form that he'd been _born_ into.

Instead, however, I gently pushed him away, placing my hands on his chest so that I could push him back. He frowned, but let me do so. "It's not the same, Loki," I said in a quiet mutter.

"How is it not?" he asked. "You always told me that I should not be ashamed of what I am. Why is it so different for you?"

"Because what _you_ are isn't a bad thing," I answered. "What _I_ am? It was created by Fraye." I looked away. "And how can it be anything _but_ vile?" I pushed him back a little further, smiling a watery smile. "Look, it was a good day. Can we just let it be a good day? Please?"

The thing about me? I'm a stubborn bitch. I get an idea in my head and I refuse to back down. But you see, the thing about Loki? He's an even _bigger_ stubborn bitch. And every so often he gets something in his brain and refuses to let go; and when that happens, rest assured: he gets what he wants. And not even _I_ can stop him.

He frowned deeply, then stood, still holding onto my arm. His hand slid down so that it could wrap around my wrist as he started to lead me out of the room. I followed, complaining half-heartedly.

"Where are we going?" I asked in half a whine. He didn't answer. Instead, he merely walked us both forwards, leading me along. I resigned myself to it with a fair degree of irritation, and he lead me into the bathroom, the one with the big mirror, where I always checked my scars in the morning.

I wasn't wearing my usual sweater, but instead a T-shirt that I was slowly freezing to death in. (Though I'd been getting more used to the cold lately, so I hadn't bothered to put on a sweater just yet). It showed a few of my scars, despite Loki's earlier protests that I did not show them around him. He carefully navigated me in front of the mirror, holding my shoulders and standing behind me.

"Tell me what you see, Frost," he ordered. I gave him a glare that reflected back to him in the mirror glass, but as I opened my mouth, he held up a hand. "No. Not with words. Show me."

It didn't take me long to figure out what that meant. I rolled my eyes and scanned my own reflection. I didn't want to feel the wave of disgust, knowing that Loki was reading my emotions, that my emotions were flooding him and taking him over, showing him precisely what I saw and how I felt about it. But I felt that disgust anyway, and the hate, for this pathetic little half a person and half an Avenger in the mirror.

Loki paused, taking it in for a long time. And then he nodded slowly, allowing our emotions to separate again.

"Very well," he said stiffly. And then he lowered his head, gently pulling my hair back away from my ear so that he could whisper directly into it. "Now allow me."

I knew there was no point in arguing, so I lowered my barriers against him, lowered all distinctions between us, allowed his emotions to flood me. He wrapped his arms around me as he looked at the mirror, where we stood together.

 _The person in front of him was strong. Confident. Battered, perhaps, but deeper and more intricate then anyone he'd ever met. So much of her was perfect: that shine in her eyes, that little gleam whenever she was hunting down some fact about life in other worlds or when she had put the pieces of some mental puzzle together. That ridiculous freckle on her shoulder that was out of place but somehow fit anyway. That defiant spark in her eyes, no matter what she was looking at, always defiant and standing tall. A thousand contradictions that made her flawless: a powerful mortal, a brilliant idiot, a terrifying fool, a dangerous joker. And now she smiled a little, and that smile, too, was perfect. Because she shouldn't have been able to smile at all, but no matter how much darkness she'd seen in the universe she tried, she tried ever so valiantly to battle against it and emerge in the light, when she felt that she herself had become that darkness. She was confident and brazen and brash and she was beautiful in a thousand ways. And those scars, they were such a part of her, and they just proved to him that she was strong enough to survive anything: and he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit smug because, in the end, she was_ _ **his,**_ _and that made her the most perfect thing on this world, or any other._

After a long moment of this, of its echoes and reverberation in my mind, Loki pulled me out of it, separating our emotions again. With heavy sarcasm, he asked, "Satisfied?"

"You could stand to do that more often," I answered loftily, trying to retain some of my dubiousness. I looked at my reflection for a long time. And then the little smile that he'd made note of grew a smidgen bigger. I settled back into his arms. "Thanks, Loki."

He nodded curtly, pressing his lips into my hair. After a long moment, his arms slipped away from around me, and he turned, starting to walk away.

I smiled slyly as I watched his retreating back. And then I closed my eyes, pressing my emotions against his, flooding him with them, swarming and swamping him with them. They flowed into him and he stopped abruptly, halting, momentarily overwhelmed.

 _It was the eyes that had started it. The eyes had been the first thing she'd noticed, from the moment she first saw him. They'd been pale blue at first, and then green, and now finally these red pools, and in any case it didn't matter, because that look inside of them was always the same. It was that mixture of wry melancholy and ironic curiosity that really defined those eyes, not their color. No matter what his expression, he had always looked sad because of them; but in the days of late, that had changed, and all of that pain seemed drowned out by the better sides of it; that glint, like the whole world was his plaything and everything had been put on it for his amusement. At least, that's what he'd like people to believe that glint was: when in reality, she saw deeper taen that, saw the spinning wheels of his mind, the cogs of the machinery turning, and he was at all times trying to dissect the world around him, to change it so that it made sense, so that the chaos filtered into order in his mind. There was a kindness in those eyes, too. But past the eyes there was the irritating smile that somehow never failed to make her heart do weird things, never failed to make her stomach flip-flop; from that wicked smirk to the wide and dangerous grin to the true and genuine smile that held no guile whatsoever, she loved to see it, because even wicked, it was him, even dangerous, it showed the Trickster inside. And it never mattered what he looked like, he always looked perfect, because of that glint in his eye and that smile on his face, and because he was_ _ **hers.**_

I pulled my head out of his, backing away a bit. There was silence. Loki seemed frozen in place for a long moment, and I could see him struggling to move forwards, to walk on, to return to his work.

And then he sighed. "Damn."

He turned around and, with brisk strides, he crossed the room over to me. I grinned up at him as cheekily as I could, but didn't have long to do so before his lips were on mine.

 _Yep,_ I thought as the word turned fuzzy. I wrapped my arms around his neck. _Best day ever._

* * *

"So when is the baby due?"

I jumped in my seat as Stark sat down next to me, the laptop where I'd been doing my homework almost falling to the floor. I managed to catch it. Barely. He was giving me a weird look, something hard and stern and entirely not amused. Seeing as Stark was always amused by _something,_ even if it was only the IQ levels of the people in the room, this was an odd thing to see.

I stared at him. "I have no idea what in the hell you are talking about," I answered, half-honestly. The not-honest part of me was thinking about just how badly I was going to kill Bruce. He was usually really good about keeping secrets.

"Don't give me that," Stark snapped. "Banner's been looking at my old notes on your nanos. Didn't take me long to piece together what he was looking for." He leaned forwards, his eyes diamond-hard. "When."

It wasn't even a question. I boggled at him. "You know, it is just _possible_ that I am _not_ pregnant; just asking questions."

"Are you?" His tone indicated that he wholeheartedly believed that I would say 'yes', and that I really _was_ pregnant. It gave me no small amount of satisfaction to rid him of that belief.

"No!" I snapped. "I just wanted to know if it was _possible,_ okay? I'm not _pregnant!_ " As he blinked, sitting back again, surprised, my eyes narrowed. I looked back to my laptop. "Besides," I grumbled. "I thought you weren't _talking_ to me. That you didn't _approve_ of Loki and I. So what the hell business is it of _yours?"_

"My nanos. My rules."

"Technically, S.H.I.E.L.D. signed them over to _me._ They're not _yours_ anymore."

"Still my Tower."

"I can leave."

"You haven't yet."

That irked me. I slammed the computer lid shut a little too hard, tucked it under my arm, and stood, heading for the door. I was fully ready to walk out of it and leave the place for good when Stark sighed.

"All right, all right, get back here."

I considered ignoring him. But after a moment, I set the laptop down and sat back down in front of him. Folding my arms, I lifted an eyebrow; a silent prod for him to speak. He did so after a moment.

"You two are perfect for each other. Fine. I get it. But he's only been an Avenger for what, a month?"

"Almost two now."

"Exactly. And two months ago, he was walking around with a crown on his head and making the world kneel. You're rushing this, Nat, and you can't be entirely certain that everything isn't going to change again."

"Actually, Stark, I can," I answered coolly.

"No, you _can't._ Because even _he_ can't be sure of that. Now, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, he's on the team now and he's one of us and everything… but you're _marrying him._ You were _engaged_ within a _week_ of being together."

"I've known him for what? Two, three years? And I know his _every thought."_ I shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, I know him about as well as a person can."

He frowned.

"Besides, it's not like I'll ever find anyone _else,_ " I pointed out, lifting an eyebrow. "And we're not getting married _right away._ It was a _political_ move, Stark. We don't _need_ to get married right now, but it was a good idea concerning interplanetary relations. You know that."

His frown deepened. "I dunno, Nat. I guess… I just don't like it."

"You don't have to," I answered. "You just gotta accept it."

He gave me a long, hard look. And then he sighed heavily. "Fine." He said loftily. "But if I get another scare like this again, I'm disowning you, Pizza Girl."

I gave him a swift-and slightly evil- grin. "We'll see." There was a pause. And then I asked, "So… you think… I mean, it _is_ possible? With the nanos? They wouldn't…?"

He shrugged. "I programmed them with basic medical knowledge. They'd recognize your DNA in the child and leave it alone."

And just like that, I had my answer. I breathed a sigh of relief.

 _One problem down,_ I thought to myself. _Two enormous ones to go._

"Thanks, Stark," I said.

He let out a disgruntled sound that was something like: "Mrf." He folded his arms. "I better not have to worry about that particular tidbit of information for a _very_ long time."

I looked down. I knew it wasn't good to talk to Stark about the more personal aspects of life, because 'privacy' was a foreign word to him… but as I rubbed my arm awkwardly, I found myself talking anyway. "Don't worry about it. It… It might not happen at all, y'know?"

He noticed the change in my tone. Straightening a little, he shifted in his seat, leaning in a little closer to me. "Oh?"

I shrugged, trying to be cavalier. "There's other issues. S'no biggie." I stood before I could say too much. Giving him a weak smile, I said, "Thanks for the info, Stark. I should probably get back home." I rolled my eyes and knocked on the side of my head. "Loki's run out of errands for Puck, so I gotta go save the poor guy."

He gave me a smile, though the look in his eye suggested that he knew I was lying. I put my laptop away and headed back to the portal, stopping only when I reached the room where I saw Bruce and Natasha sitting inside, busy with respective tasks. Smiling a little, I called to Banner in a sing-song voice, "You're dead to me!"

Natasha looked up, curious, and Bruce sighed theatrically. "He spied on me!"

"Gee, who could've foreseen _that?_ "

He chuckled as, grinning, I left the room and headed back to Jotunheim.

* * *

It had been a few weeks since Tiff and I had become 'friends', since Fenrir had arrived, since Puck had become Loki's apprentice, since I had started college. Life was complicated and messy, but it was moving forwards, just like it always did. It was a strange progression, weird and wonderful, and I let myself go with the flow of it. To be honest, I was grateful for it; grateful for the messy, sticky, gooey progression of time that we referred to as 'life'. A few months back, I hadn't thought that I would have it any longer.

I was getting back into the swing of college, and Loki was settling into his rule, along with his new duties as Puck's teacher. I helped him out when I could, which was always a lot of fun; Puck was a swift learner, and he was easy to teach; because he didn't freak out when he didn't get it right away.

Fenrir became a part of my life as well; a part that I still wasn't certain if I liked or disliked. He and Loki talked frequently, and it always made Loki happy to be around him, so that was a good thing… and none of the Jotuns who had been tailing him reported anything off, so-against Sile's better judgment- I had called them off. I knew that the Jotun scout still kept tabs on him during his free time, but I assured him that I was already more than doing so, and that he had no cause for concern. He was concerned anyway.

I fell into a familiar rhythm with my old college group; and though we had some very different viewpoints on life, we still got along fairly well. I went shopping with more people than just Tiff, or hung out in the café, or went to study groups or restaurants with everyone. It was a familiar life, and a nice undercurrent to the one that had become even more familiar in days of late. Tiff became the newest member of the group, and, outside of school, so did Adrian; returning to hang out with us despite the fact that he hadn't quite had the strength to return to school yet. I understood that. And everyone else accepted it; and accepted Tiff, who, despite her somewhat quirky humor and nature, soon fell in with the rest of the crowd. She and Ben became an 'item', so to speak, and the two were rarely seen without each other. It did me good to see that: to know that Benny had someone. Especially someone better for him then I could have been. And he and Tiff really seemed to… _click_. His mellowed-out, laid-back nature nicely balanced her let's-go-crazy attitude. It was a relationship that the shrink in me found occasion to study from time to time.

As for college itself… well, my grades sucked. Okay, maybe not _so_ bad, but they weren't exactly _great,_ either. I got by, like I usually did. Not that it really mattered, and not that I particularly cared. I had other things to worry about: like the fact that Steve _still_ hadn't come back. Or that I _still_ hadn't told my parents about the engagement. You know, crap like that.

I was in the cafeteria, thinking about how to introduce the subject to my parents, when Jade sat down across from me. "Girl's night Friday, sleepover afterwards," she announced. "My house, starting at seven, movies, popcorn, candy. No boys allowed."

I lifted my eyebrows.

"Sleepover?" Tiff asked. "What are we, twelve?"

"Hey, sleepovers are cool," Ben said.

"Particularly when they're all girls, right, Benji?"

"I wouldn't know. I've only got eyes for one," Ben answered her, with much sweetness in his voice.

"Ooh, quick thinking," I complimented.

"I have no idea what you mean," he responded, with great innocence.

"Besides, it gives us an excuse to stay up all night," Jade told Tiff primly. "I've been studying so hard that my headaches have headaches. Thursday is the last test of the week, so Friday we're gonna watch TV until our brains dribble out of our ears."

Tiff considered. "You know, that doesn't sound too bad. We've got a test… what? Wednesday?" She looked to me. I nodded. "I could deal with a bit of brain dribbling. You in, Natalie?"

I considered, taking a bite of beef jerky to give myself a little time to stall. Could I risk it? I mean, what was the harm in a few movies? I could say that I could swing by for a while, but that I wouldn't be able to stay through the night. Right? I mean, that made sense, didn't it?

It did, but best not to risk anything. Swallowing, I shook my head and answered, "Sorry, guys." I resorted to one of my long list of lies. "My boyfriend's taking me out this Friday."

There was a loud, collective groan from the entire table. "Oh, _come on!_ " Jade whined as I looked around, surprised. "You are with him _all the time!"_

"He _is_ my fiancée," I said in a mumble, and got another communal groan.

"Yes, and you just _love_ reminding us of that," Tiff said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Natalia, you can cancel just _once,_ can't you?" 'Natalia' was her nickname for me; I still didn't know where she'd gotten it from. "I mean, the dude is _marrying_ you! I don't think he's going to get so offended if you just hang out with your girlfriends for once in your life!"

"For once?" I asked, surprised. "I hang out with you guys all the time."

"At school, where you're forced to," Jade countered. She leaned forwards and grabbed my hands. "Please, Natalie? Please, please, _please?"_

I frowned. There was sweat beading on the back of my neck. "Look, I…"

"What time does your date start?" Tiff asked suddenly.

"What?"

"What _time?_ "

I scrambled for a good answer: what was a good time for a date to start? I didn't know, I hadn't been on a proper one since high school. "Um, eight."

"Okay. It'll be over before the night's done. Just tell him that you wanna hang out with your friends afterwards. Have him drop you off or whatever. You can arrive late, we won't mind."

"So long as you're _there,"_ Jade agreed with a few fierce nods.

I started picking at my food with my plastic silverware. "Guys… I can't, okay?"

There was a chorus of boos and hisses, started by Jade. "Why not?" Tiff whined.

Why not? Because I'd been able to keep down my crazy episodes at school for the most part: but at night my psycho side liked to come out and play. Because if I didn't sleep next to Loki (and sometimes even if I did) I had nightmares that could kill. Because I couldn't sleep unless there was a light on, and usually that light was my own glowing skin. Because I was drop-dead terrified of the dark. Because I didn't feel comfortable without a knife beside me at all times; and I could barely get by without it while I was at school, let alone while sleeping over at another person's house (of which I would not know the layout of). Because, long story short, 'torture' and 'sleepovers' _do not mix._

My hand went to my gloved arm, picking at the sleeve that hid my scars. "I just can't," I answered quietly.

Ben caught it. His eyes lit up in recognition. But he seemed at a loss as to how he could turn the conversation away, just as helpless as I was to do so. Still, he tried. "Hey, guys, if she can't, she can't," he said, shrugging and leaning back in his chair, acting as mellow as ever. "Lay off."

"No. Not good enough. I want a _reason._ " Jade snipped. I glared at her.

"I gave you one. I'm going on a date."

"Not all _night._ "

"Yeah, well, I've got some homework afterwards," I mumbled. "And it just isn't a good time."

"On a _Friday?"_

"I wanna get ahead."

"Since when do you _ever_ try to 'get ahead'?"

"I…I just can't, all right?"

" _Why not?"_

"Look, can't you just _leave it alone?!"_ I pushed back from the table, standing abruptly and slamming my hands against the table so hard that many of the people there flinched, Jade included. There was a long, lingering silence. Even the people at nearby tables went quiet, looking at me funny. I looked down, immediately regretting it.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Jade demanded. "It was just a _question._ You don't need to go _psycho_ about it."

I winced, the word almost a slap in the face. 'Psycho'? She had no idea. Slowly, I settled back into my chair; only to get more verbal abuse from Jade.

"You know, you're always doing that, keeping secrets and _freaking out_ whenever we ask you about it. All this stupid stuff, and you know, we're getting kinda _sick_ of it, you know?"

"Jade, lay off," Ben said, a little firmer than before.

"No! Natalie, this is stupid! What _happened_ to you? I invite you over-I mean, it's just _one night-_ and you just about take my _head off!_ "

Tiff, I realized, was watching me very intently. She was, however, not saying a word in my defense. How could she? She didn't know what she'd be defending.

" _It's just a damn sleepover._ If you don't _want_ to come, just _tell us that,_ but stop making up these _lame_ excuses, and just say it straight that you just don't _feel like it!_ Stop getting so _crazy_ over it!"

Against my better judgment, I found myself growling out, "I'm not _crazy."_

"You could've fooled me!"

"JADE!" Ben shouted suddenly, standing. His mellow tone disappeared, replaced with a commanding roar. " _Lay the_ _ **hell off**_ _!"_

There was a pervasive hush following this, spreading across the group. Tiff seemed silently relieved that Ben had stood up, though I couldn't contemplate why. My eyes were on Jade, who turned a sharp, poisonous glare to Ben.

"What's your damage, _Osner?"_ She asked. People only called Ben by his last name when they were mad at him, or when they were old members of the Manhattan rebellions; he'd gone by his last name in those times, after all. But now was definitely the former. "You know I'm right! This shouldn't be such a friggin' _issue!_ "

"You're right. It _shouldn't,_ " Ben snapped. "So do us all a favor and just shut up about it, okay?"

My heart skipped. Words could not say how grateful I was to that boy at that moment. "Thanks Benny," I mumbled.

Jade turned her scathing eyes to me. "Fine," she snapped. "Fine. If you don't want to come over now, then don't bother coming over again _at all._ Because I don't do so well with friends keeping _secrets_ from me."

Tiff finally found a way to jump in. Her face twisted in disgust as she shouted, "Ye _gravy,_ is this _college?_ Or is it the third freaking grade?" She didn't say 'freaking'. Everyone stared. Her voice grew high-pitched and mocking as she did finger quotes. "'Give me what I want or I won't be friends with you any more'. Next you'll be asking us to change you're frigging _diaper."_ She glared at Jade. "You know what? Screw you! Screw you, your sleepover, and your little dog, too!" She stood. "And you know, just for that, I'm gonna be just like you and be freaking _petty._ I'll have a girl's night of my own, at _my_ house, on the _same day,_ with all of the _same people_ invited, and if Natalie wants to come she can, and if not, she doesn't _freaking_ have to, because that's well within her _right_ as a human _freaking_ being." She still never once said 'freaking'. Both of my eyebrows went up, and Jade's lips grew small, like she'd eaten something sour.

Tiff wasn't finished. "And you know, it's not like you're not the biggest _blabbermouth_ _ **in**_ this school! And then you wonder why someone might want to keep a _secret_ from you! So you know what, Natalie, if you wanna tell me whatever your real reason is, fine, but you don't have to, because, screw it, _everyone_ has secrets. _I_ have secrets. _You_ have secrets, too, Jade- oh, wait, that's a lie, you can't keep your mouth _shut_ long enough to keep _anything_ quiet- but most _sane_ human beings don't shout their business out across the streets!"

"I'm not _asking_ her to!" Jade screeched, standing upright. Half the table was on its feet by now, and the other half was trying to make itself as small as possible. "I just want her to be _honest_ with me! That's what friends _do,_ right?"

"Friends also learn to _shut up_ if friends don't want to _talk_ about things!"

"It's _just a sleepover!_ It's not the _end of the world!_ "

"And exactly _how_ in the _hell_ would _you_ know?! Clearly, she didn't tell you for a _reason:_ it could be _anything!_ But you don't _know_ , so just _shut up already!"_

"Fine!" Jade's screeching grew louder. " _Fine!_ Just leave, then, you two deserve each other anyway: the _freak_ and the _slut!_ "

I don't know who pulled who back away from her, and who kept who from attacking. I think I pulled Tiff away from her, but I knew that I launched towards her as well- I didn't care that she'd called me a freak, that's what I was, it was the 'slut' comment that riled me- and I knew that Ben, though he was holding us both back, had to be restrained after a moment as well. One of the other girls at the table helped hold us back.

"It's not worth it," She said firmly. "Come on, guys, let's just get out of here."

It took a moment, but the three of us, giving Jade death glares, left the table with the other girl, slowly meandering away for a moment before Tiff walked off with long, snapping strides; and seconds later, we kept pace with her. We were halfway across the campus before she finally sat down in the middle of an expanse of grass, not breathing heavily, though even Ben- an old message runner for the rebellion- was a bit winded. I sat next to her, Ben and the other girl beside us, and after a moment, Tiff sighed heavily.

"Sorry she was such a bitch, Natalia," She told me. "I didn't think she'd go that far."

"S'all right," I said easily, though I was still looking at her as though she'd dropped from outer space. Was it possible that I could have _two_ good friends off of this planet? _Two_ great people who were just perfect and weird and weirdly perfect? I mean, I'd thought that, with April gone, there was not a lot of hope. But Tiff…

She took a swig from a water bottle, then smiled weakly. "Don't suppose you _will_ come to that Girl's Night that I am now apparently planning?"

There was a silence that eventually I broke with a sad, weird little giggle. The others laughed, too, quiet and mirthless. "Hell, I don't know," I said, running my hands down my face. "I really, _really_ shouldn't."

She nodded. "S'cool. I get it."

"Thanks, though. For sticking up for me."

"What're friends for?"

There was another momentary pause. Ben had slung his arm around Tiff's shoulders and was carefully stroking her arm by the strap of her tank top with his thumb. It was a reflexive, distant gesture, but also comforting and careful and close. I looked down.

"She'll probably start a lot of nasty rumors about us," I muttered after a moment.

"Probably." Tiff sighed.

"She was way out of line, you know," I said. "Calling you a slut."

"I've been called worse." She smiled weakly. "People assume that 'wild' means 'sleeps with everything that moves'." She shrugged.

"Kissing Ben when you barely knew him probably didn't help," the other girl pointed out.

"Probably not. But he's officially tied to me now, so what does it matter?" She looked up at me. "But saying you were a freak? I mean, what _was_ that?"

I sighed and shook my head. "She's just…over controlling. Doesn't like that I'm a little on the unmanageable side. She'll probably cool down in a while and apologize; after she's tarnished our reputations a bit."

"Screw that," Tiff said, shaking her head, making her small red-brown curls bounce. "I don't have much of a rep to begin with. She'll do less damage if I just stay away."

I looked up at her. And then I nodded. "I'm inclined to agree."

Ben seemed startled. I'd always worked a little harder to stay Jade's friend, taking her back again and again after we had these spats, regardless of whatever she did. That was my nature, after all; to forgive and forgive again, even when it tore me apart, because I knew I had to, because if I didn't, then what made me better than the people I was holding a grudge against? But I'd fully accepted what I was now, fully accepted that there was no changing this monster inside, that there _was_ no monster 'inside'; that it was me in this skin and that was what had always been. So really, I just had less tolerance for this kind of BS.

Maybe that meant that there were a few less humans in my life, and a bit less normalcy. But- I supposed, looking at the people around me- that was okay. At least I had this normal; and it suited me quite fine.

* * *

The sleepover wasn't the only invite I received that day; and the second one was far less disastrous. I was walking Jekyll when Loki told me the news: we had both been formally and cordially invited to the coronation of one Thor Odinson. Preparations were still being made, but Thor would be king of Asgard within the month. Loki had a few mixed feelings, but he liked to think that he was happy for his brother; and I knew for a fact that _I_ was. I was ecstatic, and I skipped a little as I walked, which made Jekyll happy, because he didn't understand it, but he thought of it as an excuse to try and go faster. This probably wasn't one of his better ideas, as he was already pulling at his leash as hard as he could and choking himself, but he didn't seem to mind, and no matter how often I tried to give the leash some slack, he always pulled to the end of his leash again.

I rolled my eyes and let it be, turning a corner into an alleyway. It was one of a few on my route, it was New York after all, and I wasn't exactly frightened of long scary alleys any longer. I was, after all, invulnerable.

Still, I was immediately on edge when Jekyll stopped in his tracks, the fur on the back of his neck bristling. He whimpered once, quietly, and I instantly began a scan of my surroundings. It didn't take long to find the problem; even shadowed as he was, the man stood out.

He was almost-but not quite- six feet tall, with thick muscles and a thin little blade that he was twirling between sausage fingers that actually seemed pretty deft, the knife flashing and dancing and weaving through his fingertips. He was pretty good with it. I'd seen better.

I took in clothing, hairstyle, trying to find an advantage. He wasn't wearing a jacket, but a tight-ish black shirt that was clearly meant to show off muscles and be intimidating. He couldn't shrug out if I grabbed it. But his hair was cut short, cropped close to his scalp, so that would be useless to try and get a hold of. His feet were well placed, even in his casual, relaxed stance. It'd be hard to topple him, but not too hard. I mean, bubble or no, I'd gone up against Jotuns, and they could eat little twerps like him for breakfast.

It was clear that he was waiting for me; or at the very least waiting for some random, innocent victim, because he stood, his teeth shining in the half-lit alley as he smiled widely at me. "Well, hello," he said in a smooth, liquid voice. He turned his smile to Jekyll, who began growling as he advanced. "Nice dog."

Jekyll's lips peeled back from gleaming white teeth. " _I_ like him," I said easily. "He's good for getting rid of creeps." I looked the man up and down. "And you're looking kinda creep-ish."

His grin stretched. "Appearances can be deceiving."

"He says, wielding a knife."

He opened his mouth to respond when a voice spoke behind me. I wasn't startled; I'd heard the person walking up behind me long ago. I'd been keeping tabs on him.

"Stop playing around, Blake," the voice drawled. I turned around and lifted my eyebrow at him.

"Why?" I asked, with innocent eyes. "I thought we were having fun."

There was a reason I was acting this way. If these were just some normal lowlife goons that roamed the streets of NYC looking for people to rob or kill or whatever, then they wouldn't expect a 'victim' to be so cocky and unafraid. It would be unnerving. And, if they were here for _me,_ me specifically, then I had to make an impression. Because anyone here for me would have to know _something_ about me; and I would have to fall into their impression. They'd expect me to be arrogant. They'd expect me to be cocky.

The second man smiled. His partner-'Blake'- stepped forward, twirling the knife in his hand. "Aw, she's _funny,_ " I felt the blade against my back, pressing just lightly against my skin. Blake was close, his voice lowering. "You're so _funny,"_ he half-cooed, half-spat.

 _If that filth steps any closer, you are to break every bone in his body,_ Loki ordered in a dark tone, tasting blood. He'd peered into my brain when my heart began to speed up, and was now monitoring the situation carefully. _Am I understood?_

 _Don't worry,_ I answered casually. _They're only human. I'll take care of it._

He consented silently, but kept his eyes on the situation. I didn't beat in the two's brains immediately: I wanted to know why they were here and- if they knew about me- who had sent them.

"Blake," the other man chided again. Blake backed off, and I felt the knife move away from my skin. Not that it mattered so much. The other man looked to me with hard, calculating grey eyes. He smiled at me.

"I apologize for my associate. You understand the necessity, I'm certain; being in the business you are."

"College is a business?" I asked, raising innocent eyebrows and putting a childlike curiosity on my face. In reality, my mind was whirring. My 'business', as far as most earthlings might be concerned, was working for S.H.I.E.L.D. So this guy might very well be one of _their_ enemies: and not necessarily a direct enemy of _mine._

He smiled patiently. "Come now, Natalie Frost," he said, and the way my name sounded in his voice gave me shivers. "Do not think us entirely ignorant. It's rather insulting."

He gestured behind him; and moments later, a car screeched up to the opening of the alley, blocking it off entirely while the door opened for us. It was get in or get dead, as far as these guys seemed concerned. Blake shoved me forwards a step while his companion gave him a disapproving little glare.

"If you would be so kind as to come with us?" He asked quietly. The threat was clear and plain and I knew that, if I was still human, I'd have to do it. There would be no way out of it. As it was, I pondered my answer.

Finally, tugging a stubborn Jekyll along, I got into the car. "Cozy," I noted, glancing around. It was one of those vans, like you see on TV, where the seats are all arranged around each other. Like a limo, only less fancy. Typical kidnapping vehicle; at least according to television. "We get free drinks?"

As I made quips, I studied the driver. I saw only the back of his bald head. Purposely bald, he looked a little too young for it to be anything else. Not that I would have really been able to tell from this angle. Jekyll sat, curled up in the space by my feet, and growled at Blake and the other man as they sat across from me.

"Afraid not," Blake said smoothly, still smiling his large white smile that made him look… predatory. The knife was still in his hands. "Don't have to pay for gas, though," he noted.

"Oh, that's a definite plus." I gave Blake my most dazzling grin. In the weirdest of weird ways, I liked him. I mean, I hated his guts, 'cause he was trying to threaten me and was wielding a knife and crap, but he was pretty easy-going about it, without being… insane. Granted, he probably had a bit of an insane streak, but still.

Besides, I tended to relate more with my enemies then I did my friends. And I was almost more at home with this group of humans then I had been back at school. Though Tiff was probably an exception.

"So might I ask where we're going?" I inquired, with all the politeness I could muster. Loki was still watching and grumbling, but he was beginning to settle in to just watch the fireworks. I could do this. He knew I could do this.

"You can ask, but I'm afraid we can't answer," the grey-eyed man said with a shrug. "Don't worry, Miss Frost. Everything will be clear enough eventually."

"Always is," I answered cheerily, kicking my feet back and patting the seat next to me until a disgruntled Jekyll jumped up on it, resigning himself to lying down next to me and growling if anyone got too close. No one did. Jekyll had some nasty chompers, and if anyone placed a hand where it didn't belong, they were not going to get it back.

The ride took a while, but not too long. I stayed relaxed the whole time, occasionally exchanging easy banter with Blake. Eventually, we drove into a flat, squat, concrete building on the outskirts of the city, surrounded on all sides by a chain-link fence. It looked out of place, too menacing, too… dangerous. There weren't many windows and the place was small, compared to the towering skyscrapers on all sides of it. I piled out of the car, falling into step behind Blake and the other man, the driver walking behind me. He had a gun in his belt, and he stroked it gently as he climbed out, as though pointing it out to me. But he didn't bother to pull it out or threaten me or jab it in my back. I whistled 'It's a Small World' as Jekyll fell into an easy rhythm beside me, no longer pulling at his leash.

I was led inside of the building, and brought to what I estimated was close to its center. I made careful note of the turns I had to make, and was slightly curious as to why I hadn't been blindfolded, so that I couldn't do so. Not that the blindfold would've done a whole lot. Maybe they knew that. Maybe they wanted me to leave at some point. That made me even _more_ curious.

I was put inside a room, and the grey-eyed man and the driver left moments later. Blake stood by the door, still smiling, still toying with the little knife in his hands. I looked around: the place was mostly empty. There were two chairs in the center of the large room, with whitewashed walls that made everything feel sparse and frightening. If something so simple could've frightened me. I sat down in one of the chairs, and Jekyll settled down next to me.

"So I take it someone wants to meet me," I said pleasantly, looking around. "I must get the number of their interior decorator."

For once, Blake didn't have a response; other than another nasty smile. All was quiet for a few minutes. I continued humming, now tunelessly, as Jekyll whined a few times at my side.

It was a few moments before the door opened; it took all my willpower to keep staring ahead and not turn to look at it, to look instead at my fingernails, as though I was bored. I only looked up at the newcomer when he sat across from me, smiling blissfully.

"You know, for all the fuss he made about you, I honestly thought you'd be prettier."

I blinked at him. "Well, whoever 'he' is, I'm flattered," I said with ease. But I was grinning inside: because of course it would be him.

Murmur, Loki's old war general, and the only one who had escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. after the fall of Loki's Midgardian reign, sat back in his chair. His watery grey eyes gleamed with the same wicked light that they always had in days of old. I, of course, recognized him immediately from Loki's memories: but as these eyes had never seen him before, he would not expect me to know him; so I acted as though I didn't. And as though I had no idea about Loki.

"But I don't really care about 'him'," I went on breezily. "Right now, 'he' isn't here, and _you_ are. So my question is: who, exactly, do I have the _infinite_ pleasure of addressing?"

Murmur chuckled very quietly. "Please, Miss Frost. Everyone in this room, myself included, knows full well that Loki is still alive. And that the two of you share a certain…" his eyes danced. "Romantic interest…?" He leaned forwards, clasping his hands together. "Which means that you already know full well who I am."

I didn't let my irritation show through. My face was a blank slate, with nothing but a patronizing little smile to decorate it.

"So let us try this again, shall we?" He asked, his words smooth and syrupy, as viscous as honey. "'For all the fuss he made about you, I honestly thought you'd be prettier.'"

I sat back, tilting on two legs of the chair. They were folding chairs, as Spartan and simplistic as the rest of the room. "Well, I'm afraid that you look exactly like I remember you." I said, waving a dismissive hand, as though I was shooing a fly.

"Like you remember me?" He asked, giving me a confused look, though his watery grey eyes were still dancing. "You've never seen me before. We've never met."

My answering smile was fanged and dangerous. " _You_ have never seen _me,_ " I responded, slipping my hand in the pocket of my jeans and pulling out a pocket knife. I toyed with it, following the movements of Blake's little knife dance, which I could still see him doing in the corner of my eye. "That doesn't mean we haven't met. I have, in fact, known you for a very long time."

He chuckled. "Let me guess. I killed some distant relation of yours?"

"Given your track record, that's highly likely," I answered, quirking an eyebrow. "But I wouldn't know."

He still looked puzzled. He did not appear to appreciate that so much, and so he tilted his head to the side and let the subject pass. "Well, it was rather an accident, my finding you. Just chance, that I should stumble upon _your_ name, whilst I was browsing through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files."

As I quirked an eyebrow, he chuckled. "Must keep a low profile, you know," he explained. "Make certain that the right organizations don't know much about me."

"Of course," I said agreeably, nodding a few times. As though discussion of crime and espionage was typical, as though it was only to be expected. Of this man, it was.

"And I thought, 'you know, that name sounds _very_ familiar'. And then I remembered: how many times did our old king scream that name at night? How many times did he call it, did he stop anyone else from saying it? How many people under his protection shared the last name of 'Frost'?" He chuckled and shook his head. "It made me very curious. After all, I'd assumed you were dead."

"Don't take it too hard. _I_ assumed the same."

He gave me a little _very-amusing_ look and continued. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has some extrodinarily detailed files on you. I didn't even get to look at half of it before the firewalls managed to find me and kick me out of the mainframe." He sighed and shook his head, a very dramatic gesture. "But it was enough. And it made me very curious." He leaned forwards, looking at me closely. "I so wished to meet the object of our old King's affection." He looked at me for a long time, then gave me a wry look. "Not much to look at, I'm afraid. It seems I wasted both of our time."

 _I'm certain in the right light, you'll change your mind,_ Loki thought at Murmur, his mental voice poisonously sweet. _A certain Thunderer might be so inclined to…_ _ **illuminate**_ _things, should I mention this particular conversation._

I grinned inwardly, imagining that. _Gzzt,_ I thought back, an electric noise. Loki was very satisfied with the mental image that passed through both of our minds of Murmur being on the receiving end of a certain lightning-generating war hammer. The only problem with that fantasy was that he wouldn't be the one wielding it.

I smiled at Murmur. "Clearly I'm not just a pretty face: and according to your tastes, not even." I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my knee, folding them there. "But we all know that you're not interested solely in my looks: so why don't you tell me why I'm really here, Murmur?"

He studied me for a second. I could see him categorizing me in his head, putting me into boxes and sorting out my personality and goals and the things that made me tick. Everything that I wanted to achieve, wanted to avoid, everything he could use to manipulate me. Finally, however, he responded. "You are here because you are the closest human connection we have to our former King." He leaned forwards. "And because I wish to have a… friendly _chat,_ with that King."

I sighed, rolling my eyes, bored already. "Let me guess. You had a great gig going on, general to the king of the world, and when he went away that all crumbled, and now your life is crap and you want revenge." I looked to him. "That sum it up?"

"Oh, please, I am hardly so petty." Murmur waved a hand. "In this business, I find that revenge is something best left forgotten; it is a very powerful motivator, perhaps, but it is blinding." He shook his head. "No, my goals are a little more… ambitious." He pressed his fingertips together, meeting my eyes. "I wish to have a discussion with him about a few… mutual acquaintances."

Tone, body language, the actual words he used, and the only people that Murmur and Loki mutually knew. These were the pieces I put together, and was left with two clear pictures, but only one correct one. Seeing as Shay and Jenner- the other two generals who served by his side- were currently in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, I went with the second. "The Avengers."

He seemed pleased that I'd picked up on it so quickly, smiling, pleasantly surprised. "Precisely."

"What business do you have with them?"

"None, yet," he said airily, sitting back again. "But why waste an opportunity?"

My eyes narrowed. He sighed theatrically and went on, "I dislike people in power, Miss Frost. I dislike their untouchable attitude. I prefer having leaders whom I can… control, should they get out of line." His watery grey eyes were flat, hard, and emotionless as he added, "And now, these… _super_ powers? Oh, no. I dislike that _very_ much." He _tsk_ ed and shook his head. "Highly uncontrollable."

"So why do you need Loki?"

"Why else?" He looked innocent. "Our dear king was their enemy, was he not? Surely he knows _something_ of them and their weaknesses, something that the more… _common_ man can exploit…!"

"And why would he tell you?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. Clearly, this man hadn't gotten to the parts in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files about Loki's initiation into the Avengers team. Or mine, for that matter.

Murmur spread his hands. "The kindness of his heart," he said. At my soft snort, he chuckled and said, "Well, he never had a reputation for such things, did he?"

"Not so much, no," I answered, smiling with all my teeth.

"Fair enough," he said breezily. "Then this just became very simple. 'His majesty' will do these things, will _tell me_ these things, because you, my dear, will ask him to do so." He gazed towards the window. Or, where a window would be. This place wasn't exactly built to make you feel like there was still a world outside. "I'm certain he will listen to the woman he loves, after all."

"And why would I do that?" I asked, tilting back on two legs of my folding chair again, crossing my arms.

His lip twitched upwards at the corners. "Because my good friend Blake here has read and memorized your home address; and that of your parents. And that of every friend you have made within the past two months- we've been tracking you, you see, we're very good at that- and, as he has been demonstrating, he has some… talent, with a blade."

I glanced to Blake out of the corner of my eye, taking in the flashing knife in his hand. I folded my own pocketknife and stuck it back in my pocket where it belonged.

"I believe you are familiar with what that means, concerning your friends and family; and concerning what you must do to keep them safe," Murmur added. He was being very cordial about it, his tone still very smooth.

I rested the front legs of the chair back on the ground. The smile had gone. In its place was… nothing. Nothing but a blank emptiness, hard and without emotion. I took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

My eyes were on the ground as my voice changed, as my words fell into an accent identical to my fiancée's; but they were still my words. "That's a very interesting proposal," I said quietly. "Tell me, what would happen if I just…" I paused, then shrugged. "Well, killed Blake?" My eyes zeroed in on his and didn't leave, didn't waver, didn't yield. "Killed you? What if I- and this is just conjecture, mind you- _killed_ every last person inside of this building?" I tilted my head to the side. "Could you hurt my parents then? My friends, then?"

Murmur chuckled again. "Then I would have to send out one of the others."

"Others?"

"The five other recruits of mine, all sent out to kill every last person that you know, should I give the word." He smiled with all of his teeth. "I know you think yourself a good 'protector' for them… but tell me, Miss Frost, can you protect them all?"

I nodded slowly a few times, my head bobbing as I contemplated this newest development. "What time should I bring Loki here?"

Murmur smiled. "This Saturday at noon. Oh, and be a good girl and don't warn S.H.I.E.L.D.? We wouldn't want them getting involved in such a… _personal_ matter, now, would we?"

"Of course not," I answered, and now the blissful smile had returned. "It would be a pointless endeavor; the instant S.H.I.E.L.D. began evacuating one of my friends, the others would be slaughtered." I sighed theatrically. "It's a nice little game you're trying to play, Murmur, and I appreciate having another player in the mix…" I sighed and stood. "But you see, this is a game I've played before." I took a few steps towards him. "And I'm getting _bored_ of it."

"Bored of your friends' lives? Your family's lives?"

"No, my friend, _your_ life. I am very bored of _your_ life." I leaned forward, so that my face was close to his as I smiled and smiled and smiled, until my cheeks hurt and I knew that this blissful, insane little grin would be branded in his mind until the end of his days. That was not such a difficult feat; his days would not be very many.

"I'll bring Loki. I'll even bring you the Avengers, possibly on a platter, as you've always wanted them. I'll bring you everything, and I'll let you go through with your little plan. I'll let everything go perfectly. I'm going to let you think that you've won. But when your big move comes into play, when you're kicking up dust and creating a smokescreen for yourself…? When that dust settles, you're going to see me, Murmur. Not Loki, not Fury, not the Avengers. Me." I tilted my head to the side. "And I am going to put a bullet through your throat." I straightened. "If I am feeling kind."

As I turned away, I added, "Threaten my family again, and I will not feel so kind."

"You are not dismissed, Miss Frost," he said, as I headed towards the doors. Blake stood in my way, knife held up…

I took his wrist, twisted it, pulled the blade out of his hand and, in the same move, ran it in a shallow, thin line from collarbone to stomach. Had I driven the blade a little deeper, he would have bled out in front of me. As it was, he gasped and stared, stumbling back as his clothes tore and blood began to seep onto his shirt. I pushed him as he was stumbling, pressing my hand against the cut, hooking my foot around his ankles and sending him to the ground. He caught on the wall as he went down, his head smacking against it painfully.

"Neither are you, my friend," I said, wiping Blake's blood off of the knife and onto my shirt. I tossed it down next to the stunned guard. "Neither are you."

And then I was gone, my face still expressionless, my eyes still dead… and my heart beating at a thousand miles per hour.


	4. Torturer and Tortured

Jekyll sat down on the concrete next to me as I leaned against a building, my eyes on my phone as I sent a quick text to my father:

 _Temporarily kidnapped. Won't be coming home tonight. Escaped, everything's fine, heading to the Tower now. DO NOT CALL THE DIRECTOR. Explain everything later._

I sent it on its way and started jogging towards the Tower, Jekyll padding beside me. He'd followed me out of the building, and I'd grabbed his leash again once we were outside. He seemed very glad to be out of that place.

I, on the other hand, was thinking. And thinking very hard.

Of one thing I was absolutely certain: Murmur had been lying to me. Not about my parents and friends, that was pretty much standard. But his goal of discovering the Avengers' weaknesses? It made sense, but it wasn't the real goal. How I knew this? I wasn't sure. Gut instinct, perhaps, or the way that he knew that I had abilities as well (after all, he had anticipated that I would threaten-and could carry out that threat- to destroy his little 'home base' and everyone in it. And he had known that I would try to protect my friends and family).

Did he know that I was an Avenger? Doubtful. Not unless there was something else, something I was missing, something that he hadn't told me. At this point, I was sure that there was; so I thought it best not to assume anything.

The question was: how to get out of it? How to protect everyone? And, above all, how to figure out his _real_ goals? There was something bigger going on, I was certain.

My phone buzzed a moment later. I checked the answering text from my father.

 _Doors locked, mother on her way home. We'll be fine. Stay safe._

I smiled a little. A while ago, I would've been a lot more worried for my parents after a threat on their life. But they had been the leaders of a revolution against an inhuman foe; and had gotten pretty good at protecting themselves. They carried weapons, and they knew how to use them. I tucked my phone in my pocket; they'd be fine, for now.

It was Tiff and Benny and the others that I was worried about. Hell, even Jade. I was mad at her, but I didn't want her _dead_. I wasn't _that_ petty.

I headed to the Tower. Loki arrived before I did, walking through the stable portal that we'd set up, and had the situation explained to the others by the time that I got there.

"He knows that Natalie is a member of S.H.I.E.L.D.," Stark was saying as I entered. "Which means he'll be monitoring their movements. But he doesn't know about us." He straightened, looking to me. It said a lot about how Loki and I were currently acting- perfectly in sync with each other, making it very clear that whatever one heard or said was what the other heard or said- that Tony simply turned to me and didn't attempt to re-explain everything, merely carrying on as though I had been there the whole time. "We can clear your friends out, no problem. By the time Murmur's goons realize what's happening, it'll be too late."

"And then we storm their base," Clint said easily. "A few hours, and this'll all be taken care of."

"No."

All eyes turned to me. I lifted an eyebrow. "No," I repeated. "He said that he wants to know about your weaknesses, wants Loki to tell him those things… But I say he's full of it. There's something bigger going on here, and I wanna know what it is." I slouched against the wall, bending my knee so that the sole of my shoe was pressed against the wall. My eyes were on the ground, focused and intense. "If we clear the place out, then we'll never get what we want. Unless we take Murmur prisoner; but there's too much risk of him getting killed or not being there at the time. If he left, we'd never find him again." I chewed on the inside of my lower lip as Loki spoke, my words from his voice. He didn't seem to care; our minds were working too swiftly, were too interlocked, for him to really notice.

"The best opportunity we have is the one that he's given us; based on what he said, he'll likely be there on Saturday. We could go now-I doubt he'd be very far by this point- but we wouldn't have time to make a plan, or do reconnaissance on the area."

"We go on Saturday," I said, a little more firmly, my words from my mouth. Or maybe they were Loki's words. Who knew anymore? "We let them think we cooperated, or we charge the place, depending on what the situation is at the time." I looked up, around at everyone. "Our main goal now should be to keep this under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar; and to keep everyone safe for the next week."

There was a long pause as that all sank in. Barton spoke up first, in a blunt, no-nonsense tone.

"You're putting everyone at risk. Your friends, family." He folded his arms. He, too, was leaning against the wall, on the opposite end of the room from me, his eyes as intent as mine as they studied me. "I'm only gonna ask once, Natalie. Are you sure that you want to do this? Are you sure that whatever 'bigger picture' is here… is worth the risk?"

Loki and I exchanged a long look. A thousand thoughts passed between us, racing, melding, meshing. His hand reached forwards and took mine, just carefully, my fingertips hanging onto his, my thumb running gently across them. Turning back to Barton I answered, with all of the authority that I could muster, "I'm sure."

He nodded once, briskly. And somehow, that was enough for everyone else, too. Natasha nodded slowly as Bruce and Tony settled back into their seats, listening more intently now.

"All right," Clint said. "So the main part of our problem is protecting everyone, without calling attention to it." He frowned.

"I can cover the school when I'm there," I pronounced. "But after that?"

Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance. "We can set up security on their homes. Stakeouts, cameras outside the houses… it'll be a bit of a privacy invasion, but it should keep them safe."

"Your parents should be all right," Stark went on. "They had me install an alarm system a while back. Pretty high security; higher than any nameless assassin will be expecting from your average home."

"I'll have them call in sick for work or something," I added, mulling it over. "And they're pretty well armed." I chewed on my lip. "Benny's a smart kid, he worked for the rebellion, too. Maybe my parents could tip him off that something might be off, and that he should just be prepared." I looked up. "Like an old soldier from the war looking for revenge or something."

"Good," Clint complimented, pointing a finger at me. "And the others?"

"I don't see Jade with a weapon; but I know Tiff has three guns alone," I went on. "I can't say that she or her family are any good with them, but it's possible that they-"

"Tiff?"

I looked to Natasha. Her eyes were intent on me.

"Yeah," I answered. "She's… a new friend of mine, she's into weaponry. We've been hanging out for a while."

Her eyes grew inexplicably hard. But she carried on, as though her expression had not just turned to diamonds and flint. "I'll take care of her house for the night. Clint can take Benjamin's, and Stark, Jade's."

"That may not be entirely necessary," Loki said momentarily, looking thoughtful, as an idea occurred to him. He let it wash through me, let me see what it was… I lifted both eyebrows.

"If S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't interfere-" I started.

"If Earth has no issue with such things-"

"Good learning experience for Puck," I added.

"But would the other Jotuns even particularly care?" Loki inquired softly, his fingers resting on his lips as he concentrated, his other hand still holding mine, fingertips clinging to fingertips. "We cannot spend our entire rule looking after the interests of humans…"

I liked the 'we' and 'our' in that sentence, though I pretended I had not noticed it, and pushed it onto the back burner for later study.

"We don't have to tell everyone," I said. "Just the few we trust." I held up my fingers, ticking off names. "Steprin, Sile, Puck-"

 _We do not trust Puck,_ he reminded me. Neither of us really noticed that he had switched to his mental voice, or that we were speaking with both mental and real voices as the conversation went on, leaving the poor Avengers even further behind then they were before. They seemed resigned to letting us talk it out for a few moments, though, because they sat back and let us do so.

"We can't do it with just you, Steprin and Sile," I told Loki. _And we can hardly tell the twins._

 _True,_ he conceded, "But there are others."

I considered the options that he'd placed in my mind and, after a moment, I nodded. "Okay. That works."

"Gonna tell us what 'that' is, then?" Barton asked, with much sarcasm.

"Magic," I responded quickly. "A few basic magical barriers and protections. It wouldn't keep out someone determined and knowledgeable enough, but these guys are human," I looked to everyone. "And if the barriers were breeched, the person who put them up would know immediately." I looked down. "Jotuns can look like humans, as you've already seen," I gestured to Loki. "So sneaking them on planet isn't the problem." I looked at everyone. "It's… politics."

"Discovery of a Jotun on a human world, interfering in human matters, may not be taken so… lightly," Loki put in as explanation.

"Well, screw that, we're not politicians," Stark said. "Bring in whoever you have to, do _whatever_ you have to."

Clint, Natasha, and Bruce all nodded in agreement. Loki nodded in return and headed back to the portal. A little more relieved, but still buzzing with a nervous energy, my fingers tingling, I sat down. It took a few deep breaths, running my fingers through my hair. Bruce's careful hand on my shoulder helped me to pull myself completely together again.

"You all right?" Stark asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Fine. A little shaky. But…" I looked to the carpet, resting my elbows on my thighs and slouching over, taking a few deep breaths to keep myself calm. "But I'm okay."

The others nodded. I closed my eyes and kept in contact with Loki as he gathered up those that he had discussed, calling Puck at the last minute. I had been right; magic like this would be good training for him. He _was_ Loki's apprentice, after all.

Once Loki returned, he sent me back to Jotunheim. He wouldn't hear any of my protests against it, and the two of us had a long, intense-but-silent conflict in our heads concerning the issue. Finally, I was forced to go through the portal and wait for everyone to deal with my issues while I sat on the sidelines. It made me very antsy, very edgy, and very irritable. But I kept an eye on everything through Loki, and I made myself at least partially content with that.

It was a number of hours before Loki, the Jotun group with him, and the Avengers all deemed my friends 'safe' for now. It was a little while longer before the Jotun party returned. I was waiting for Loki when he came back, and surprised myself by hugging Puck briefly, as a welcome home. I was beside Loki soon afterwards, however, our minds working and my relief at seeing everyone safe making me relax a great deal.

Loki and I stayed up late that night, discussing battle strategies. It wasn't even a question of whether or not he would be there with me that Saturday, when it all went down. It was an unparalleled certainty. The two of us would be together, just like always.

Finally, Loki sighed deeply and glanced to the window, at the darkening night. "You should sleep, Frost."

I looked outside, at the stars above, so different from our stars on earth. After a long pause, I sighed and nodded. He was right. I had college tomorrow. Places to go, people to see, friends to protect…

I headed to bed, knowing that he would join me in a few minutes. My mind was still racing as I closed my eyes, and that night, my dreams were filled with strategies.

* * *

The next day was a long one. The day after that, not so much. I fell into a pattern, keeping my eyes on everyone at all times, to the best of my abilities. Benjamin kept near me, having heard that there might be one of his old enemies from the rebellion days gunning for him; and in turn, Tiff kept close to him. It was Jade that concerned me; and I knew that I'd have to make amends with her if I was to have any chance of keeping her safe for now.

"And the worst part about it," I told Puck, "Is that I know how to fix things. I just don't know if I can do it."

He looked up at me from where he was polishing armor. His eyebrows furrowed. I had debated with myself at length on what I should talk to Puck about, but seeing as he was involved in this whole 'protect-the-earthers' issue, I figured it was safe enough to tell him things about my Midgardian life. It wasn't like I was particularly frightened about him using _that_ against me. Nothing on Earth was dangerous enough to do so.

Besides. Puck was the closest thing to a 'human' that I could get on Jotunheim. Talking about average, normal, petty human issues was so much easier with him. He was raised on earth; he knew the social standards and norms like no one else here would.

"How so, m'lady?"

He still hadn't entirely dropped the whole "m'lady" thing, but it had gotten considerably less frequent since we started spending so much time together.

I sighed deeply. "The whole reason we fought was because of that dumb sleepover. And since Tiff is throwing one of her own to counter Jade's, all I've gotta do is invite Jade along and go with everyone else. It's been a few days since the fight, so she's had time to cool down… I could just walk up to her and end this."

"So why don't you?" Puck inquired, giving me his attention, turning his eyes off of the silver, gleaming armor that was not going to get any more spotless then it already was. However, he seemed determined to make it downright reflective. I shied away from it a little at the prospect; mirrors and I, as it has been established, do not agree.

"Puck… you saw me the other night," I looked down to my feet, kicking back and forth, just a few inches away from the ground. Most of the furniture in Jotunheim did not fit me well enough for my feet to touch the floor. "What if I go into one of those fits while I'm there?"

"Ah." He turned completely to me now, abandoning his work for now. His eyes were solemn and serious, but also… kind. Not pitying, not like everyone else's, and there was no guilt in them, like there always was whenever I discussed these things with Loki. It was a relief, to be honest.

"Yeah." I looked down. "Um… thanks for that, by the way." I said quickly. I never had thanked Puck for sitting next to me during my big freak-out moment that night, had never properly thanked him for sitting next to me until the sun came back and abolished the darkness for good.

"Don't mention it," he said, politely but casually. He looked back to a polished breastplate and ran the cloth against it one last time. "Well, if you think about it," he said, "You've spent time at school with them. You haven't had an incident yet, right?"

"Nothing I couldn't cover up," I agreed. "But that was in the daylight, and I've never been asleep at school."

He gave me a wry and highly disbelieving smile. I rolled my eyes. "Okay, not that often."

He chuckled once. I went on, "And yeah, maybe I could go one day without a weapon… but Loki and I tried sleeping apart. It doesn't work out so well, you know?"

Puck nodded. "Of course. You're bound by magic. Magic likes to keep its binds very tight."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Learning something, are you?" I teased.

"The King is an excellent teacher," he answered, seemingly genuine. That's what I liked about this kid: he seemed to have no guile. That's also what I hated about him: because 'no guile' tends to translate as 'too good to be true'.

"So he hasn't ordered you to kneel yet?" I couldn't resist the dig.

He gave me a look, almost confused, almost scared. As though he suspected a test, and he recited his words as though they were the expected answer. "If he had, it would have been my duty to-"

I waved a hand, cutting him off before he could appear any more submissive. "Inside joke, kiddo. Don't worry about it."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You have inside jokes with yourself?"

"There is more than one person inside of this noggin, you know," I pointed out, tapping the side of my head with my index finger twice. His answering smile was crooked and skewed.

"Aye, m'lady." He turned back to his work, paying more attention to it again. We fell into a comfortable silence. That was something else that was way too _comfortable_ around this half-breed: the silences. Most people had awkward silences on occasion, at least after they've first met, but me and Puck? Not so much.

"So what shall you do?" He asked, not turning again. "About your friends?"

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Again kicking my feet, I mulled the question over for a bit, until I had a half-decent answer. "I dunno. I mean, the sleepover would keep them within my line of sight on Friday, too, so there's an added advantage. But I just don't want to freak out around them, you know?"

"Say you did."

I looked at him. "What?"

"Say you did," he turned to me again, this time still holding a shoulder plate in his hands, cleaning it studiously, thoroughly, while still looking at me. "Say you freaked out. What's the worst that can happen? The absolute _worst case scenario?"_

"Well, I could bubble out and blow the whole house up, thus ending the lives of everyone I'm trying to protect," I answered, oozing sarcasm. "I might even wipe out the city, the state, the country… hell, maybe even the planet. No one knows the limit on this thing, the range."

He nodded, bringing his foot up onto the bench he was sitting on and draping his arm over his knee, leaning forwards to me with a wry smirk on his smug little face. "And exactly how _likely_ is that?" he asked. His eyes were dancing, gleaming just a little too brightly. Like he was playing a game, but I was most certainly a second player; instead of just a piece he was moving on the board.

He leaned back again, arm still on his knee. My eyes narrowed.

"Admittedly unlikely," I conceded.

"No duh," he said, and I found myself fighting with a grin. A human term, human words, oh man, I loved this kid. He was so damn _human,_ but at the same time he totally _wasn't._ He was an oddity, an anomaly, and in that way, I guess you could say that we were completely the same. "So, second worst-case-scenario. Something that's a little more… realistic."

I frowned, considering. "Well… I could still go into the bubble. If I did… they'd find out. And they'd… they'd realize everything. Y'know, my powers, my abilities…"

"Do you usually display your powers when you're having one of those 'moments'?"

My cheeks started to feel hot. "Well, no, but-"

"Then more likely, you might just freak out, right?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"And you probably _won't_ reveal anything, _right?_ "

I scowled. "'Probably' does not mean 'won't.'"

He gave me a look, and I turned my eyes down. "But… yeah," I conceded. "I probably won't."

"Well, there you go then," he sat back again, flippant suddenly, casual and careless as he placed the shoulder plate back on the table. "So, in reality, what's the more likely worst-case scenario?"

I thought it over. And then I thought of something that was more real than any of the others. Something that was just a little more terrifying, for it could not hide behind the idea that it was just my own mind making grandiose assumptions. I drew my legs up, wrapping my arms around them. "I could lose it. I could end up staring into space for no reason… and they'd all see me…" I hung my head. "See me like the freak they think I am." I turned away. "The freak… that I am."

"And what in the hell is wrong with _freaks?"_

I turned to him. It was the most blatantly open thing that I'd ever heard him say. He was even looking at me directly, his red eyes on me.

I scanned my words, trying to figure out what had triggered it. And then I bit my lip. "Puck… I didn't mean…" Guilt weighed heavily inside of my stomach. I wondered then, how many times he must have heard that word, from both worlds. He might have let his disguise slip once or twice on Earth, or done something normal Earth kids couldn't do… and everyone on Jotunheim knew of the half-breed who had survived…

He stopped me before I could go on. "I don't care about that, Natalie." It was also one of the first times that he'd called me by my first name. "But take it from someone who knows: everyone is a 'freak' to someone else's standard. Me, obviously. You. Your fiancée, the _king,_ could be considered as such, should he be sighted walking along the streets of Earth." He leaned forwards. As I looked down, his voice lowered. "Tell me that I'm wrong," he challenged in a quiet, small tone.

"You're not wrong," I answered. "I'm not saying that you are. I'm just saying that _this_ kind of freaky isn't exactly…" I paused, considering, then found my wording. " _Taken_ well. You know, men in white coats and stuff?"

He smirked again. "Okay, admittedly, that's a good point." His eyes softened a little. "But would you rather keep fighting with them? Knowing what could happen? Knowing that, if you don't keep watch on them… they could die?"

I didn't respond. He sighed, a quiet but deep exhale, and picked up a shield, polishing it with just as much dutiful care as he had before. "The worst that could happen? They find out that something bad happened to you. Something that made you… well, as you are." He looked to me. "They find out that you were tortured. But they won't know about Fraye; they'll think it was the King." He looked down again, studying the shield as he cleared dirt and ash and blood from its creases and corners. "And _that_ is what you need to ask yourself. If _that_ is something that you can handle. Everything else… is irrelevant."

I thought that over in silence for a long time. He continued with his work, concentrating and considering each movement. Finally, I smiled and stood.

"Thanks."

"Of course, Lady Shadowslayer."

I headed to the door. "You're a good kid, you know that?"

"Thank you, m'lady."

I smiled and headed out of the room, walking down the halls, my mind working. Puck was right. There was only one painful possibility of this event. If I decided to go through with the sleepover, to stay with my friends… I had to accept the fact that, by the end of the night, they might know that I had been tortured. Even if they didn't know who by.

Benny already knew. That wasn't a problem. And, oddly enough, I would have trusted Tiff with the knowledge. It was Jade that concerned me, Jade that I had the issue with. Her, and anyone else who came along. I sighed deeply. Everyone had been through shit during Loki's reign, some worse than others. Everyone had their problems. They would've understood, they would've gotten it.

I almost snorted aloud. 'Understood' was reaching. But that didn't mean that they wouldn't eventually be okay with it. Heck, maybe they could even help. And I wouldn't have to keep wearing those blasted gloves and jackets to school all the time in order to hide the scars. As it was, I was baking on Earth, at all times. Compared to Jotunheim, Midgard was _boiling_ already; I didn't need to add a few extra clothing layers to the mix.

And this could solve a lot of issues. And, hey, I might not even lose it. Everything might be okay. They might not even find out at all.

I resigned myself to sleeping on it as I turned the corner. It was only then that I saw Fenrir.

He smiled toothily at me. "Hello, Lady Shadowslayer."

I jumped, taking a step back. It said a lot about my recovery that I managed to not immediately drive a knife through his throat. It also said a lot about how long I still had to go that I still brought the blade out and almost did so. He gave the little blade a half-disdainful, half-amused look. As though a mortal could not hope to touch him. My eyes immediately narrowed.

"Fenrir," I said coolly, sliding the knife back into my belt. I started to walk past him. "I would suggest not lurking in the hallways like that. It could be hazardous to your health."

"So it appears," he mused. He moved with an odd, quirky cheerfulness, a dark sort of muted glee. His steps were fast-paced and difficult to keep up with, forcing me to do so or to be left behind and following him. I kept pace as well as I knew how. I would not follow him, whatever he did.

"I was rather hoping I would find you here," he told me, his pleasant voice as cheerful as his walk. "I hear there has been some trouble on Midgard, and I wished to offer my assistance."

I looked to him as I walked, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He was studying my reactions very carefully, but with the grace and casual hauteur of one who was not. He was very good at it. I was so much better.

"I see," I said, tonelessly. "And where, exactly, did you hear such a thing?"

Fenrir smiled with all of his white, pointy teeth. "A wolf can hear many, many things, when no one thinks that he is listening."

"I'm certain," I said, slow and careful, a warning in my words. He seemed just fine with it; in fact, he appeared to not have heard the warning at all.

"Loki is my friend; and what concerns him, concerns me. If there is something that I can do to help, by all means, please, allow me to do so."

I halted, turning to him. It took him a few steps but after a moment, making it clear that he was doing so at his own pace and at his own leisure, he halted as well, turning to face me.

"If you wish to assist the king, by all means, ask the _king_ what you can do," I said, my words somehow combining friendliness and ice into one weird emotion-smoothie. "You have no need or use for an extra set of ears -or a third opinion- in a conversation between two."

He smiled, blissful but toothy. "But it is a Midgardian matter, is it not? Why should I not ask the one Midgardian of Jotunheim?" He shrugged, a mild, _what-can-you-do_ gesture. "It is your planet, Lady Shadowslayer, and your home. Not his."

"Home?" I inquired softly. "Home is the place which accepts you. That place which takes you in and claims you as its own." I straightened. "I am from Earth, and I accept him. I have claimed him as my own." I didn't mention the Avengers. For some reason, I didn't dare to. I didn't want to give him any information that I did not have to. "I suppose, in that way… Earth is as much his home as mine." I shrugged. "As a man from three worlds, he has had to learn that lesson many times; though, I suppose…" I looked to Fenrir. "A man of a thousand worlds, such as yourself, may never learn such a lesson." My eyes narrowed, more intent and more intense, focusing on his. I was studying his eyes so closely that I almost missed the way his hands curled into claws at his sides. "For a man of a thousand worlds may find a home in none; if he will not stop long enough in one."

Despite the claws at his sides, his answering smile was genial, his disposition as kind and pleasant as ever. "Perhaps that is true. But a home is not as foreign a concept to me as you seem to believe, Lady Shadowslayer." He shrugged. "I had a home, once. A person who accepted me, as you have suggested."

I tilted my head just an inch to the side, feeling my own curiosity get the better of me. "And what happened?"

He barked out a soft, single laugh. "What happens to all homes that do not care? All families that do not cling to each other so tightly that their fingers bleed? All families that do not stand beside each other and profess undying love to each other so frequently that they begin to believe it themselves?" He shrugged. "It broke."

I could see it in his eyes, somehow. A fractured glass house, a family portrait torn to shreds. A 'broken home' was just a metaphor. It was a metaphor I myself had used, being the child of one myself. But I could see it in his eyes, could see something that was so very true of such a very apt metaphor. In his eyes and past his careless expression, I could see 'home' crumbling around him. And suddenly, I felt something that I'd never really felt for Fenrir before: sympathy.

We were quiet for a long moment; and Fenrir turned, walking away without the usual cheeriness, but still with his calm, complacent flippancy. It was a number of steps before I finally asked, in a voice that conveyed the understanding of the ageless truth of brokenness that followed Fenrir's every footstep, "Who was she?"

His eyes slid over to me, watching me sideways as he kept walking forwards. And then he turned his gaze away, smiling. "What makes you so certain that there was a 'she' involved?"

I gave him an _are-you-really-doubting-me_ look, but when he did not concede defeat immediately, I sighed and went through with the verbal strike. "You mentioned a 'person' who accepted you." I turned my attention forwards again. "And, well… I know that look."

He didn't respond for a very long time. His eyes, when I glanced at him again, had turned to the ground, watching his footsteps disappear beneath him with an empty amber-and-black stare.

"She was Asgardian, wasn't she?" I asked quietly. His eyes closed briefly, and those clawed hands now curled into loose fists as he swallowed. "The Asgardian lover that Loki keeps talking about. It was her, wasn't it?"

He still didn't respond. I took it as an affirmative. "You don't have to talk about it," I told him. "We've all got secrets. Things we'd rather not say."

"Eira."

I turned to him. Though mildly startled, I didn't stop walking; I didn't even lose pace. He took a deep breath and stared ahead, his eyes dead, as though he'd purposely turned off his emotions for this conversation. It was what Loki and I did to get through the subjects we could not speak about without hard hearts.

"Her name was Eira," Fenrir spoke the name with the utmost of care and respect, as though it were some delicate glass sculpture, studded with gems but fragile, frail, as though the wrong move could shatter it forever. I pretended that I did not notice the undercurrent of pain that fogged up that glass name with a sad, misted silver-grey.

It was one of those moments, filled with muted power, where the whole world simply must fall silent. And so we did. I let that name ring in my ears and I let myself wonder what might have happened to her, what she had meant to Fenrir, what she could have meant if only things had been different…

"And what happened to her?" I asked at last, a whisper that was not even as loud as his had been. He didn't look at me.

"She died," he answered at last. With a blink, the quiet moment was broken, and the world fractured again, falling back into its rightful, chaotic place, loud and noisy and filled with life that had no awe or respect for those who were dead. "She was killed."

"Killed?" I looked to him. "By what?"

He smirked. It was the same crooked, twisted smile as he always tended to wear, that he had been wearing before the conversation took this turn. "Ignorance, Lady Shadowslayer. Pure ignorance."

And then he was gone, picking up his pace so that even I could not follow. But I didn't try. It didn't take much to understand that he wished to be left alone.

He disappeared around a corner a moment later, and I slowed my pace so that he could have time to fade away into the palace walls. After a few minutes, once I was certain that he was gone, I stopped.

"Eira," I said in a breath, a musing of a sound.

And then I walked on.

* * *

"You don't have any reason to worry," Murmur said, rolling his eyes. "We've had this set up for a very long time now. Even if she decides to attack the base beforehand- and she _won't-_ we'll be ready for her. We'll have the information you need soon."

"I'm not doubting you, Murmur," Fenrir answered, flashing the man a quick grin with all of his teeth. "I am simply being certain that everything will proceed according to plan."

"Of course," Murmur answered. "But this _is_ the reason you hired me. There is no reason for you to concern yourself with it." He sat down, tilting back in his seat and still smiling… but his watery grey eyes held all of the friendliness of a cobra. "Your only concern, I think, should be the matter of payment."

Fenrir smiled at the human. He disliked the race in general, but one or two were useful, and on occasion they spouted a few interesting minds. And, after all, who was he to judge on species? He would have found himself down that road, were it not for…

He did not allow the thought to come to completion, merely leaning against the wall. "You'll have what you asked for, Murmur," He said, scanning his nails with great apathy. Abruptly, they lengthened into claws, thick and hard and sharp, and he held them up in front of his eyes. "How much will you need?"

"As much as I can get," Murmur answered. "Six vials, minimal."

"Vials?"

Murmur sat up, reaching over to the desk that was a few feet from the swivel chair he sat in. Pulling open a drawer, he slid out one of the many vials he'd been saving for just such an occasion. He dangled it in front of his own eyes, holding it up for Fenrir to see. The shape shifter reached forwards and took it between his claws.

"That will be enough?" he asked, mildly curious, but with great doubt on his face. But then he seemed to recall that he did not care, and he tossed it back to Murmur with a sound that was something like, "Pah." Murmur caught it as Fenrir went on, "You can have it all, as far as I'm concerned." His smile was toothy, but his eyes were oddly melancholic as he said, "She will hardly need it any longer."

"I thought you'd say as much," Murmur said under his breath, pulling open the drawer and sliding the vial back into its slot. A large number of others seemed to stare back up at him as he slid the drawer closed again, hearing them tinkling against each other. He allowed himself a brief, self-satisfied twitch of the lips before returning his face to solemnity, his mind to business. "It will not be such an easy task," he warned Fenrir. "She is dangerous. Even the Avengers thought as much. _Loki_ thought as much."

"And if Loki were not immortal, would he have seemed to be such a threat to you?" Fenrir asked, a mocking spark shining in the amber irises of his otherwise black eyes. "He may have been your king, mortal, but to me he is just a man; and men can break."

"Yes, you've convinced me of such," Murmur answered, somewhat dryly, as he rubbed his throat, the memory of his meeting with this shape shifter still forever ingrained into his mind. "But the question is: can _she?_ "

"Well that is precisely why I _hired_ you, my friend. To _find out._ " He folded his arms. "You discover her weaknesses for me, and I exploit them for you."

"A perfect little symbiosis," Murmur agreed in what could almost be described as a purr; but the sound was deadly, like that of a wildcat, a growl in disguise.

The two were quiet. Fenrir straightened, scanning the room and doing routine checks, sniffing the air casually as he glanced over the buttons and screens. Murmur spoke up as he was doing so, asking in a quiet voice, "Why do you want her dead, anyway?"

Fenrir paused, halting. Without turning completely, but only just slightly, he noted, "I do not recall questions being a part of our arrangement."

"Humor me."

"For a price," Fenrir answered, turning back and smiling again, with every last one of those unnervingly sharp teeth. "Is that not your way, Murmur? Must not everything come at a price?"

Murmur hesitated. And then he chuckled. "Very well," he answered, leaning back again, folding his arms over his chest. "A question for a question, an answer for an answer. Sound fair?"

"Fair enough," Fenrir answered breezily, turning away.

"So why do you want her dead?"

"I want _them_ dead, Murmur. _Them._ "

"Them, then."

Fenrir considered. "I suppose you could say that I don't." He turned back to Murmur again, smirking and shaking his head. "She means nothing to me. She has never wronged nor slighted me, has never given me reason to think ill of her. And he is one of my oldest friends, regardless of his ignorance and idiocy in times past." He looked away. "Regardless of what the abolishment of that ignorance could have done." He hesitated, then, as though somewhat bored, he went on, "I don't want them dead. I _need_ them dead. They are all that stands between me and my goal."

"And what goal is that?"

"Is that not another question?"

Murmur frowned. "Fine. _Your_ question?"

"Why do _you_ wish her dead?"

Murmur's lip quirked upward at the corners, but he smothered it before it became a full-fledged smile. "I don't need her death, Fenrir; only her blood. Though I suppose, in the end, it could amount to the same thing."

"No," Fenrir answered. "Her death will accomplish something for you. Her death will give you the power that you are seeking. I suppose, in a way, my question is better asked as: why do you need that power in the first place?"

"Why does anyone need power?" He shrugged. "Because they've been powerless before." His eyes hardened. "I had everything. Rank. Position. Power beyond anyone else. Appointed by Fraye herself as the King's general- what more could you want?" He chuckled softly. "And then that all went away, and I became the laughing stock." He shook his head. "That will not happen again. This world of 'supers' will not exist much longer."

Fenrir thought that over. And then he turned away. "Interesting."

"So what is it? Your goal? What will their deaths achieve for you?"

Fenrir turned to him. He studied the human for a long time, watching as the mortal stared back. And then he turned away. "I tire of this childish game, Murmur."

Murmur chuckled. "Of course you do." He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure they're wondering where you are by now."

"They never do," Fenrir answered… but after a moment, he turned away and started walking. "Have everything prepared. This cannot be allowed to fail."

"Of course not." Murmur agreed; but it was too late. Fenrir was already gone.

It was not long before the shape shifter arrived in Jotunheim. Travel between planets could be difficult, but he had practiced for many, many years; and he had learned the pathways and passages between worlds and realms and planets and stars. Brushing himself off casually, he was about to head forwards when a familiar scent filled his nose.

He stopped. Chuckling, he turned. "You know, half-breed, you're becoming a real nuisance."

Puck smiled at him, a dazzling gesture. "Well, it is my solemn duty," he answered carelessly, clasping his hands behind his back. Fenrir was not fooled by the façade; the scent of metal and magic in the air had alerted him to the object in Puck's hand; the same sliver of metal that he had fractured into so many needle-splinters during their last… _disagreement._ Puck was clasping it so tightly that his palms were sweating, but his face remained cool and collected.

Fenrir chuckled. "So is that it?" he asked. "Is that really the reason that you are here? Were you really sent here just to stop _me_?"

Puck smirked. "Not quite," he answered, eyebrow lifting. "As… _impressive_ as a foe though you might be." His tone clearly indicated that he meant the opposite. His eyes hardened abruptly. "Where were you?" He demanded.

"Where was _I?_ " Fenrir asked, holding a hand against his heart, mock-injured. "I was minding my own business, when a vicious half-breed and former slave accosted me and threatened me until I told him where I had been!"

Puck tilted his head to the side, his expression less than amused. "You truly wish to bring others into this personal sparring match of ours, Fenrir?"

"Oh, where would be the fun in that?" Fenrir asked. "I'd be certain to win then, wouldn't I?" He chuckled. "After all, no one trusts a half-breed."

He took a step towards Puck. "Did you ever wonder why that was, Puck? Why no one-at least not here- would trust a half-breed? Why no one could _accept_ a _thing_ like _you?_ "

He had been walking towards Puck as he talked, and now was a few mere inches away from him. Puck remained standing tall, meeting the other man's gaze.

"I'll tell you why it is," Fenrir promised. " _Ignorance._ Sheer _ignorance._ "

He chuckled again. "Oh, if they knew what we knew, eh, Puck?" He turned away and started walking. "If they knew what we knew."

And then he turned down the hall and disappeared. Puck watched him go and, after the hallway had been silent for some time, he sighed quietly and tucked the metal shard into the pouch on his belt. As he did so, his fingers brushed across the charms inside, the little baubles attached to the leather cord that he still had not worn, for its protection.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "If they knew what we knew."

He turned away and walked in the other direction from the shape-shifter.

* * *

"Please, Tiff?" I begged. " _Please?"_

Tiff pouted. "She called you a freak, Natalie. And she called me a slut."

"Everyone makes mistakes. She'll apologize, I'm sure of it. We just gotta take the first step." As Tiff's lips mashed together in disapproval, and her eyes screamed disbelief, I went on, "Come on, I've known Jade for years. If I go to her, try to talk it out, she will. She's not completely unreasonable."

"Could've fooled me," Tiff grumbled.

"Please?"

She studied me for a long moment, then sighed heavily, uncrossing her arms. "Fine. Fine! She can come. But only if she apologizes to you _personally."_

"She'll apologize to us both," I promised, turning away and quickly heading for Jade's table. I knew it was the right thing to do, that no matter what I was risking, I had to at least appear normal on occasion… but there was still a lot of anxiety churning in my stomach as I headed up next to Jade.

She looked up to me, tensing, uncertain. "Hello, Natalie," she said, with as much cold hatred as she could manage. But as she knew nothing of cold, nothing of hate, it seemed somewhat petty and sad.

"Hey, Jade," I answered, as cheerfully as I could manage. But I knew nothing of cheerfulness, so I knew that my words came out just as flat as hers. "Can I talk to you?"

She gave me a long, hard look in response, which I held without yielding. Finally, however, she pushed her chair away from the table and stood, gesturing for me to continue. I did so, walking away and beckoning for her to follow. She obeyed, and we stopped at the wall of the cafeteria, away from the tables, where our conversation would be a little more private.

I turned to her, hand on hip. "So are we done with this bullshit, or are we gonna keep fighting until there's nothing left for us to salvage?"

Her eyes narrowed. For a long time, her eyes were hard as she bit down on her lower lip.

Finally, however, she sighed. "Yeah, we're done."

I held out my hand. "Sorry I lied."

"Sorry I called you a freak."

"And Tiff?"

She winced. "Ugh, I'll apologize later."

"Now, Jade," I said, but the words were softened by a smile. Jade and I had been friends for years, even if we weren't overly close. We understood how each other worked, at least to a degree. "We're having the sleepover at her house." As her face twisted, I went on, "We want you there. We want all of our friends in one place, y'know?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know." She sighed deeply. "Guess I'll have to cancel mine."

"So you'll be there?"

"I'll be there."

I smiled to myself. "And hey, whoever wanted to go with you, invite them along. It'll be fun."

"Yeah. 'Fun'."

I grinned as she headed over to Tiff. I stayed where I was long enough to see Tiff relax a little, to see a smile cross over her face. Long enough to know that the tensions had eased. And then I cut out of the cafeteria quickly, heading to room 12-B.

The professor of said classroom was still inside, grading things on his laptop whilst eating his lunch at the same time. I gave him a quick scan as I closed the door, taking in the brown hair and studious eyes that turned to me as I entered. He lifted his eyebrows, looking at me over his glasses.

"Can I help you…?" He asked, seeming confused. He would seem that way; after all, I wasn't one of _his_ students.

I slouched against the wall. "This room secure?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, Echo Red. Is this room secure?"

He stiffened. And then he let out a breath of a sound, almost a laugh. Shaking his head, he pulled off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. "Yeah, you're good, Shadowslayer."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. tech only?"

"I do a sweep for other bugs every time I enter the classroom," he confirmed. "And the walls have been soundproofed." He leaned back in his seat. "What do you need?"

I pulled up a chair, turning it backwards and sitting directly across from his desk. "That man hanging out by the school this morning. What was your read on him?"

He frowned. I'd pegged 'Echo Red' as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent since my first day here; and I'd been keeping my eye on him and his activities ever since, even going so far as to search through what S.H.I.E.L.D. files I had access to (and have JARVIS hack the ones I didn't) until I found his codename, and some basic details. It must have bugged him though, to think that all of his S.H.I.E.L.D. training couldn't stop a college student from knowing his daily activities like the back of her hand. But, after a moment of sullen silence, he responded. "He seemed to have some kind of training; military, most likely. He wasn't enrolled, so I thought he was likely friend or family to one of the students." He leaned forwards. "Though he had his eye on you a little too frequently for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s liking."

I nodded. "Don't worry. I had my eye right back on him." I leaned back in my chair. "I don't suppose there's any way that you can leave him out of your report?"

"No."

"Fine. Then tell Fury I'm handling things; and that if he, or anyone else from S.H.I.E.L.D., gets involved… things could get very messy." I stood. "Tell him it's covert, low-profile. The Avengers have this, and any other funny business around this school, under control for the next week or so. Any time after that… and we'll keep you informed."

"Understood." He nodded… then hesitated. "My cover. What gave me away?"

I paused as I was walking out of the classroom. It couldn't hurt to give the guy a little extra advice. I mean, we both knew that he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. spy now, so he could hardly use it against me.

I turned back to his desk, straightening the picture of Echo Red, a woman, and a child. A faux family for a faux person. Ersatz and false as the rest of him. "Your 'kid'. You don't have any pictures of him in your wallet."

He lifted his eyebrows. "You look in everyone's wallets, do you?"

"Only the ones I suspect are spying on me," I answered nonchalantly. "You've got the wedding ring and the outfit and the professor glasses and everything. Your acting is decent." I straightened the picture again, fussily. "But I saw you too often and too frequently. You walk like you're always ready for a fight and you carry a knife in your shoe. I saw you shifting your foot to compensate for it once." I shrugged. "Pieces of a puzzle."

He nodded. "Good to know," he said, and I think he meant it. Anything to become a better liar, a better spy. I nodded, turned, and left the room, jamming my hands in my pockets. Time to get back to work.

* * *

I wrapped myself in a towel as I stepped out of the bath, giving my scars a quick look-over in the mirror as I did so. Drying myself off swiftly, not overly happy about being in the freezing air while dripping wet, I finally managed to pull on a robe and twist my hair up in said towel. The robe was warm and fuzzy and it felt so freaking good and I would never ever take warm and fuzzy for granted again.

It felt good to be able to take a bath every day again. I mean, I was already two months into doing so, and it was still… perfect. I let out a quiet, relieved sigh as I walked out of the room, stuffing my feet into slippers that were-you guessed it- warm and fuzzy. The fluff got in between my toes and cushioned my feet, sore from walking all over the campus with my friends, talking over the newest sleepover plans whilst rubbing the scars on my arm raw against the glove that I'd worn to cover them.

I walked back into the next room- my room- and saw Loki, sitting in front of a stack of parchment that he really should have been working on. And he _was_ working, working intently, his mind filled with urgent thoughts and more urgent matters. But I'd been dealing with 'urgency' all day. It was getting somewhat tiresome.

I walked up behind him, grinning slyly, and leaned over so that I could wrap my arms around him from behind. "Hey, you," I purred.

"Hmm," he noted in response, barely seeming to notice that I was there… though I noted the way a few muscles in his back and stomach relaxed with the introduction of my presence. But his mind was still hard at work, his hands still flipping through pages and fingers still running across the black lines of curling text and script.

"You've been at this all day," I said, in a half-pout. "Aren't you tired of it yet?"

He sighed deeply. I could feel the movement in his lungs. "This has to be done, Frost. There are-"

"You're not going to instantly become a bad king if you let yourself take an hour off," I told him quietly, because I knew that this was part of his fear. That he had thrown himself so voraciously into his rule because of what he had done with his last crown, his last kingdom. He wasn't allowing himself any room for weakness, for screw-ups, and it was going to get him in some serious trouble at some point.

He frowned. Sighing again, not-so-deeply, he turned to me, breaking out of the embrace to do so. "And what, precisely, would you have me do in this 'hour off'?"

"Relax. Read a book. Talk with your fiancée." I waved a flippant hand, keeping my other hand on his and gently pulling him out of his seat. He allowed himself to be dragged along, half unwillingly. " _Do something._ Anything but make yourself crazy with the worries of ruling."

He gave me a little look. "And what would we speak of, if not one worry or another?" He inquired softly. "There are only so many good things in our worlds that we may speak of, Frost."

"We can plan the wedding," I joked, and as one, we both shuddered. 'Planning' the thing was one of the worst parts about our eventual upcoming wedding; and, quite frankly, I had a feeling that I'd be putting it off for a long time simply because of that. "Okay, maybe not. Um… huh." I realized only then that there really wasn't anything else we could talk about that did not involve one worry or another. School held my friends and the danger they were in. The Tower fell along the same category. Puck was, as usual, Puck, and Fenrir was Fenrir. Magic lead to thoughts of the twins, and of the circle of devastation that Loki had found all that time ago, and the newest one that had appeared only recently. It still did not appear to be a direct attack.

"Okay, so talking is out. But there's still books. Relaxation. Something else." I took both of his hands in mine. "I'm worried about you. You haven't let yourself sleep in ages, and… well…" I shuffled on my feet, then sighed quietly.

"When you first came to the Tower, it was like… like everything was new and perfect, just because you were finally free. And now you're free again. Now you don't have to worry about Fraye returning, or any old enemies like her ever again. You're out of the dark, and you're not even confined to the Tower anymore; not even confined to _Midgard_ anymore. And you haven't… you haven't let yourself _enjoy_ that." I tilted my head to the side. "There's more to being a king then the weight of a crown. This is your planet, Loki. You saved the damn thing; you should be allowed to live a little on it."

He smiled wryly at me. "Perhaps you're correct." He admitted quietly.

We were silent for a long time, just sitting there together. The two of us moved to the bed, sitting down next to each other and wrapped up in our own respective thoughts.

And then Loki took my hand and began to twist the ring on my finger. It was the simplest of jewelry, just a small, bright silver band, but it had been created in the spur of the moment, without any plan or concentration, and whilst Loki was in prison, and thus not at his full power. I understood this, and Loki knew I did, and neither of us had needed to say a word about it or its simplicity. It was still perfect and it still gave me chills whenever I looked at it. He toyed with the ring while it was still attached to my finger, his cold fingertips slowly warming the longer they were in contact with my skin. "I suppose we could discuss… the coronation."

Both of my eyebrows shot straight up, disappearing into the bangs that I was seriously contemplating chopping off. My hair was way longer then I felt comfortable with these days. "Thor's?"

"Who else?" he mused, releasing the ring but not quite letting go of my hand. His red eyes went up to me, and, in a few moments, his mind on Asgardian matters, Loki began to transform. Red eyes turned to green ones and blue skin turned to pale skin, the patterns and lines becoming indistinct before vanishing altogether.

"You sure you're up to talking about that?"

He gave me a look so sarcastic that, for a second, I would have believed he was about to say _oh, puh-leeze._ If he was human, he might have. But he wasn't human: he was a Jotun, and he was Loki, and he had more taste then that. Apparently.

"He _is_ my brother, Frost."

"And then he was your enemy, then your brother, then your enemy again, and now your brother." I tilted my head to the side. As his eyes narrowed just a little, I placated, "I'm not doubting you, Loki. I'm just… making sure." I ran my hand across the back of his. "It means too much to me- to all of us- that you two keep getting along. I just don't want to stir old jealousies."

Loki turned away. For a moment, he was quiet. And then, leaning back on one hand, he said, "It is true, that my brother will have a crown on his head. That he will be a great and wise ruler, well beloved by his people." He shot me a little look, and a sly grin spread across his face, showing off a few brilliantly white teeth. "But of the pair of us, who managed to achieve this particular goal _first?_ "

I blinked at him. And then I laughed. Loki kept grinning as I shook my head back and forth, trying to stop the laughter. "That-" I said, wheezing just a little bit, "Is _wrong._ That is just so _wrong,_ on _so_ many levels." I buried my mouth in my hand and snickered against my fingers for a long moment. "You are such… such _siblings!"_ I shook my head again. "Next time I turn around, I swear, you and Thor are gonna be calling _dibs_ on the throne…"

Loki kept smiling at me as I sat back on my hands, so that our eye levels were more aligned, as he was still leaning back on his. We fell quiet for another moment, enjoying the silence together.

"He'll be a good king," I said after a while. "Only…" I looked down. Loki turned to me, curious, and I sighed. "He's not like us, Loki."

"Indubitably."

"He's not going to… _'get'_ the political world like we do, like _you_ do. As far as his subjects are concerned, he'll be great. He'll treat them like equals and do everything he can to help them." I frowned, turning so that I was leaning on only one hand, facing Loki more directly. He did the same. "But the people who have the same kind of power that he does… the royalty of the other realms? That'll be a bit of an issue." I tucked my hair behind my ear, chewing on my lip nervously. "And don't even get me started on assassination attempts. They're inevitable with every reign, I know, and he's dealt with stupid crap like that for his whole life… but he still just… thinks the best of everyone. And I do mean _everyone._ "

Loki's eyebrows furrowed, concern in his eyes as they darkened considerably. I carried on, "He lacks subtlety. He'll have people laughing behind his back at political gatherings, or making digs that he just doesn't notice… and when he _does_ notice, then his pride will get in the way. I mean, he has an issue with that; he has a hard time swallowing that pride and just moving on." I stopped chewing on my lip only so that I could chew on my fingernail instead. "He's a lovable, brave idiot, but he's still an idiot. Smarter than any of us in the emotional department- I mean, he fell in love faster than any of us, and even after everything that happened with both you and Fraye he manages to still _trust_ people- but when it comes to politics and plots… he's dumber than a box o' rocks." I shook my head. "I love him to death, I really do, I mean, he's my brother, too… but I'm worried about him. Even he acknowledged that he needed you to protect him from himself; but now that he doesn't have you by his side at all times…" I sighed deeply. "It's… going to be difficult, is all."

Loki considered. "Perhaps an alliance is in order," he said after a moment, turning away from me, facing ahead as his lips pulled down at the corners. I was not as startled by this as you might have thought; Loki had been considering this course of action for a number of days now, and it was only natural that I should know about that consideration. "But I dread to think of the cost such an alliance would take. The Jotuns and Asgardians have warred for years; they are hardly going to allow spilled blood to be forgotten, simply for the sake of their kings."

"And why not?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You brought a continuing war to an end. You destroyed a legend. The realms have not been this much at peace in centuries. Millennia, perhaps." I reached forward so that I could squeeze his hand gently. "I think they trust that you know what you're doing."

He smirked ruefully. "Ah, but the Asgardians stole the heart of their world, the very source of their power. And without its return, the Casket of Ancient Winters will always be a wall between the worlds, a separation of trust."

"So get it back."

"It is not so simple."

"Yes. Yes it is. If you asked Thor for the Casket- heck, if _I_ asked him for the Casket _-_ he would give it over gladly. The worlds aren't at war anymore, Loki. You have no reason to turn its power against Midgard, or against Asgard. And it's a hell of a lot better than making the Asgardians wait around for you to _steal_ the thing-which I'm sure a lot of them are thinking that Jotunheim will do. If you make your stance known immediately, if you let them know that you're going to ask- not demand, _ask-_ for the Casket directly? Things'll ease up. I'm sure of it."

Loki watched me for a long moment. "And when did _you_ acquire this mind for politics?" he asked, half-irritable, half-amused.

I flashed a toothy grin in his direction. "Well, I think it all started the day that a sulky Frost Giant decided to play around with my grey matter. But I might be wrong about that."

His eyes narrowed. "I was not 'sulky'."

"You were too. Like a teenage girl."

"Absolutely not."

"Turn around for two seconds, catch you writing depressing poems n'shit."

"And you were better _how_ , exactly?"

"I was nineteen. A _teenager._ And a _girl._ Ergo, I had an excuse." My eyes danced as I leaned in, grinning playfully. "And what was yours?"

He scowled, and I chuckled. "If your only reason for pulling me away from my work was to mock me," Loki said, standing. Well, trying to stand. "Then I believe I shall return now."

I pulled his arm until he was forced to sit back down. "Oh no, you don't. You need to relax."

"And you believe that the best way for me to do so is to deal with your insults?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. The gesture was far too exaggerated for him to have truly been insulted; when he was _truly_ upset, his ire was far more… understated. No, right now, he was just playing along with the game. "That hardly seems conducive to your goals."

"Hmm, maybe not," I agreed, pretending to think it over with my best _this-is-my-serious-face_ expression. After a moment, however, I chuckled and fell silent. I rested my head against Loki as he stared off into the distance, the two of us turning thoughtful as time and quiet wore on.

After a long moment, Loki began to run his fingers along the scars on my shoulder. His touch was gentle and the cold skin soothing, as the old echoes of injury still occasionally burned from time to time (rarely, these days, but it did still happen). I relaxed into it, closing my eyes; we could never allow anyone else to touch our scars. We could never let anyone else near them; for it was someone else, someone outside of us, who had given them to us. But with each other, it was an entirely different thing; in fact, it always felt… healing. As though Loki's touch was sealing what was left of the wounds and making them disappear forever. Erasing the memories, erasing the pain, if only temporarily.

When he stopped, I sat up and climbed a little further towards the middle of the bed, sitting behind him and beginning to trace the symbols on his back with my index finger. He let me do so, the two of us just falling into this pattern and rhythm. Over and over again, running my finger along the scars. Wishing that they would fade away and disappear, but it was okay if they didn't. He was damaged, he was battered, he was used… but he was still mine.

Still… I didn't like what she had done to him. I did not like how red and violent those scars were, showing up so starkly against his pale skin. When he was in Jotun form, they were not so vivid; but they were still painful for me to look at. Because they had caused him pain.

I supposed it only made sense, that he would feel the same about my scars; and that he would feel guilt for them. I supposed I shouldn't be so upset when he did. At least his lost some of this violent color when he changed forms; mine never did. Mine remained the same.

I hadn't realized that I had stopped until he turned to me. He was watching me. His hand traced up my arm, cupping against my neck as he whispered, "Enough, Frost. Enough of our scars. Enough for now."

I looked back at him, back into his brilliant green eyes. And then I closed my own, leaned forward, and wrapped my arms around him. He wrapped his around me in turn, burying his lips into my hair. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of snow that clung to him, and I just… held him. Not because I was sad, not because I was scared that he would be taken away from me, not because the scars had frightened me again: but because it just felt _right._ Natalie and Loki, Loki and Natalie, with our interchangeable names and voices and words and our synchronistic heartbeats. One person who was actually two, and two people who were actually one.

And in the end, that was how we spent the rest of the day: in each other's arms.

* * *

I knew that I would not be able to sleep much tomorrow, what with the sleepover that I would be having with my human friends. I knew that I would likely be exhausted by the time the next morning came, and that after that, I would have to be fighting. Fighting Murmur, fighting his plots and plans. But not even the thought of that state of exhaustion could force me to close my eyes right now.

It wasn't so much the nightmares, or the fear, that kept me awake. It was the _edginess._ I wanted to be up. I wanted to be moving. I couldn't lay here like this any longer, no matter how comfortable the bed was, no matter how warm the blankets or how soft the pillows or how gently soothing Loki's breath was in my ear.

I had to _move._

Gently extricating myself from beneath Loki's arm and stuffing a pillow beneath it, silently but profusely apologizing if my absence gave him any nightmares and hoping against all hope that it wouldn't, I slipped out of bed, slinking out of my room.

For a while, I wandered aimlessly; but when I had a destination, I slipped back into our room and, glow flared so that I could see, I pulled a human outfit from my closet and changed swiftly, pulling my hair back into a ponytail and giving Loki a swift kiss on the forehead. I briefly peered into his dreams, though it was still somewhat difficult to pull myself out of them once I'd entered them, and was relieved to see that they were random and mindless, without being centered on terror.

Now fully dressed, I again ducked out of the room and headed towards the portal to the Tower. I smiled in relief as I saw the color of it; a color that suggested that it was currently unlocked, and that I could pass through. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I did so, walking until I reached the other end, arriving with a headache and a trace of nausea. But hey, it beat taking the bus.

I set my backpack down; I had only brought it because I was unsure if I would be returning to Jotunheim or not. I didn't bother to whisper; most of the rooms of the Tower were sound-proofed. They had to be. Tony likes explosions.

"JARVIS?"

"Hello, Miss Frost."

He had finally, _finally_ dropped the whole 'Miss Natalie' joke from years ago. I could've danced.

"Is Stark awake?"

"No, Miss Frost."

"Banner?"

"No, Miss Frost."

I frowned. Usually you could count on one of the science boys to be awake at crazy hours like this. Ah, well, nothing for it. "Right. Thanks, JARVIS."

"Of course, Miss Frost."

I thought for a little longer, tapping my foot. I didn't even really want to _talk_ to anyone, now that I thought about it. I was pretty sure I just wanted to be _moving._ I wasn't certain, mind you, but I was pretty sure.

I chewed on my lip. How badly would my parents' alarm system fry me if I popped over to grab Jekyll? I didn't like walking so much without him; he made everything more interesting, simply because, to him, everything _was_ interesting. But I didn't want to spook them. It was too late at night to try something stupid like that. But it made me decide to bring Jekyll and Hyde to the Tower; if anyone here would take care of them. Pepper might, though she wasn't always around.

I settled for walking down the hallways, silent as a wraith as my mind wrenched and wrestled with a thousand different topics. I couldn't keep my thoughts straight, and I resigned myself to that as I wove my way through the Tower, walking staircases and hallways and rooms that I had explored many times before, in varying states of sanity.

There were so many worries on my mind now, though. Not so much Murmur and my friends; he would be dealt with soon enough. I feared my own actions, and what they could reveal… but that, too, would be discovered soon enough. If I lost it at the 'sleepover', then I lost it. If they hated me for it, they hated me for it. I still had the Avengers. I still had Loki. I still had a whole damn _planet._ And all of these people loved me. And all of these humans, all of these pathetic, frail mortals who might not accept me for what I was, well, that would never change the fact that I'd only become what I was while in the process of saving their sorry hides.

No, my other concerns were… different ones. My parents, for example. I still had to tell them about my engagement, and I was still putting it off. And then the wedding itself. In so many ways, I was eager for it; I wanted it done, over with, completely official with as much immediacy as possible. But in so many others, I was scared of it; and every time I thought of it, I felt doors closing, a leash tightening. But that leash already existed, those doors were already closed. I loved Loki. I would never love anyone but Loki, and I _could_ never love anyone but Loki.

Somehow, that didn't stop me from feeling restrained, anyway.

And the actual ceremony…! I shuddered to think of what that would be like. So much political power in one place; Midgardian, Asgardian, and Jotun alike, all sitting under one roof to watch _us,_ and our wedding. It was enough to make me wanna elope, though I knew that I couldn't do that. This marriage was a political one, that was its purpose, its entire reason.

And ah, yes, _politics._ Many of those things were weighing heavily on my mind right now as well. S.H.I.E.L.D. considered me a threat. Okay, they considered all of the Avengers 'threats', but still, they were concerned enough to go to Thor about it. Then there were the kings and queens of the other nine realms, if they were ever introduced to me and if those politics got in the way.

Not to mention all of the _new_ political crap that I'd have to live with once Loki and I _were_ married. I'd be a Queen, I'd have responsibilities. I couldn't just run off with my friends whenever I felt like it and I'd have to abandon so much of my Midgardian life… and how would Asgard take it, when their King ran off with a bunch of mortals to kick ass on baddies? How would Jotunheim take it, when their royals did the same? Granted, the Avengers were pretty much the defenders of all three worlds by now, but still…

And the _family_ dynamics? The _family_ issues that this wedding would bring up? There was a damn _reason_ that I hadn't told my parents yet; because once this happened, Loki would become their _son-in-law._ He would be part of the _family._ And they _couldn't_ hate him, not anymore. They might never _like_ him as it was, but I was trying to give them a little more time to do so…

And what about _my_ side of the family? _My_ new family? Thor wouldn't just be my figurative 'brother' anymore, he'd be my _brother-in-law._ Odin and Frigga would be my _In-Laws._ They would be _family_ and I would have to impress them all the more, because this was their _son_ that I was marrying. And if the in-laws and the 'rents all got together for a family dinner or something… well, I dreaded to see where the conversations at _that_ table would head to. I was marrying into an _alien_ family, I was marrying an _alien._ Granted, he was an incredibly _cool_ alien, and at the very least, human _oid,_ but he was still a freaking _alien._ Parts of my family, for the rest of time, would be _alien._ That would be in our bloodline _forever,_ if we ever continued it, if we ever did manage to figure out how to have kids…

And how could I live up to all of those perfect Asgardian girls, with their well-brought-up manners and their perfect politics and their abilities to swing swords and wield magic? With their perfect faces and hair and all of them being so damn _beautiful_ that I could throw up? With their gorgeous eyes and immortal gazes, how could I _compete_ with that? I mean, I knew that _Loki_ saw more than just the skin-and-bones, scarred-up wreck of a human that I always saw in the mirror… but would Odin? Would Frigga?

It was one thing for their son (either of them) to be casually interested in a mortal. It was another thing altogether for him to _marry_ her.

By the time I reached the lower levels of the Tower, I was feeling incredibly small. A lot of Asgardians didn't think I was worthy of my position, my power. A lot of Jotuns thought the same. I could live with that. I didn't know them, didn't care a lot about them. But Odin and Frigga… well, I liked them. Ish. Kinda. I didn't know them well enough, but Odin had been Loki's _father;_ and in that way, he was partly like a father to me, even if he hadn't ever been one to me directly. The same thing with Frigga.

And I knew that they appreciated what I had done for Loki, what I had done to save him… but would they appreciate it enough? Odin hadn't seemed overly surprised at the announcement of our engagement, but that didn't mean he _approved._ That didn't mean that he thought I was in any way _worthy_ to marry _his son…_

Well, it wasn't like my parents weren't going to be thinking the same thing about Loki being worthy enough to marry me. Again with the dread-where-those-conversations-might-end-up feelings. It was all so… _complex,_ so _complicated._

Couldn't I just marry the guy and be done with it? Just marry _him,_ and _not_ the rest of his family?

I hadn't realized how quiet my footsteps had gotten until I saw another shape in the semi-darkness. My instincts went on high alert as something moved at the far end of the hall I was traversing, and I froze into place, blending and melding with the shadows. The figure looked left and right, its eyes catching the light, and I almost sighed in relief. I knew that gesture, and I knew those eyes: Clint Barton. I realized then that I hadn't asked JARVIS if either of the Agents were awake; they usually kept odd hours, too…

I opened my mouth and was about to call out to Clint, softly, so as to not disturb anyone else on this floor. There was only one other person whose room was here, besides Barton, and it was the sight of him heading towards her door that made the call stick to the edges of my throat.

Clint's hand was on the doorknob to Natasha's room, twisting it slowly and silently. He still hadn't seen me in the darkness. That was impressive; I'd gotten sneaky enough to out-spy a spy.

I felt a mean little grin cross over my face. Bringing my fist up to my mouth, I coughed into it pointedly, making Barton jump like a cat that had just had its tail stepped on. I actually _saw_ the shock ripple through him as he whirled, pulling a knife from somewhere- I had no idea _where-_ and aiming it towards me.

"Going somewhere?" I asked, white teeth flashing in the false light. His eyes widened. I imagine it was a very oh-shit moment for our dear little Hawkeye.

"Natalie!" He exclaimed, half-whisper, half-hiss. "I-uh…" he froze, then winced as he realized his hand was still on Natasha's door. Pulling it shut from the inch that he'd managed to open it to, he said, "Not what it looks like."

"Yep," I said, and through the grin I found I was blushing. This was cruel. Funny, but cruel.

"Honestly," he went on. "We weren't… I mean… I never… _we_ never…" For once, the assassin looked lost. Ah, love. It does wonderfully muddling things to your brain space. Just when you thought you were smart, too.

I wasn't laughing anymore, but I was still grinning. I raised a hand, trying to stop him before he protested too much. "I get it."

"We weren't," he said, seeming kind of desperate. It was that which convinced me; because why would a spy care if they were caught in something such as that? Their reputations were pretty tarnished as it was.

"I said I get it."

"Honest."

"Clint," I cut him off again. "Been there."

He froze, then blinked. "Right," he said, seeming to remember only now. "Right," he repeated.

The grin came back again, bigger than ever. He looked up at me. "We were just talking, and I went to the restroom and-"

"Been there," I said again, raising my hand. "Seriously, Clint. No need to explain. I get it."

"We weren't," he repeated, a little more firmly this time, getting his bearings now that he remembered that Loki and I had once performed this little song-and-dance for people too; a strangely honest song-and-dance, performed for people who thought it was nothing more than a lie. People who didn't really have great opinions of us to begin with.

"I know," I answered. And then I leaned against the wall. He was quiet for a moment, looking at the ground, and I could have sworn that, even in the half-light, his face was red.

"So…" I said slowly. "Midnight talks with Natasha." I wiggled my eyebrows. "How long has _that_ been going on?"

He gave me a look. I raised my hands in surrender against the might of his glare. "All right, all right, you don't have to tell me. I was just curious." I gave him a little smile. "I was always rooting for you two, y'know."

He looked away. "We can't, Natalie," he said, very, very quietly. Very, very dejectedly. "No matter what. We can't."

I looked at him for a long time. The agent in love with his partner, as Loki and I had known for ages. As everyone had known, as we had all seen from the beginning. And he was right. They couldn't. They couldn't be more than watchers from afar, partners and allies but never friends or lovers. Because they lived a life too dangerous, too secretive, and it could get them killed.

I nodded slowly, as though I agreed. But my words contrasted with that agreement. "Neither could we."

Barton looked at me with raised eyebrows. I smirked and turned away. "Nighty night, Bird Brain."

"Tell no one," he answered. It wasn't a threat; in fact, it was almost cheerful, though not nearly cheerful enough, considering how stunned he was at the situation. I kept walking, back to the portal.

Yeah, neither could we.

And then, we somehow made it work out, anyway.

In-laws be damned, we were making it work again, and that was that.

I headed back through the portal, into my room, changed back into my pjs, and pulled Loki's arm back around me. And then I fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that everything had worked out before; and would work out again, even if it wasn't the way we expected.

* * *

As blood spurted everywhere, gushing across the floors and staining the walls, as people screamed in fear and pain, I snickered vigorously.

"Oh, man," I said, then buried my mouth in my hand, trying to keep the laughter bottled up. "They expect us to _believe_ this shit?" I tilted my head back and let the laughter bark out of me. "There is not that much _blood_ in the human body!"

Tiff was giggling, too. "And those guts!"

"That _scream_!"

She let out a supposedly blood-curdling shriek that died off into an exaggerated gurgle, and the two of us collapsed into giggle fits again. " _I_ could act better than that," I said, though admittedly that wasn't saying much. I had a lot of acting practice in my life.

Tiff snickered as the other three watched us with mixed expressions. Jade and Vicky- the girl who had joined Tiff, Benny and I during our earlier fight- were looking positively revolted, and Vicky even clutched her stomach, appearing almost green. Benny seemed torn between loyalty to his girlfriend and admitting that this movie was, indeed, pretty freaking gross.

Not that Benny was supposed to be here, anyway; he was, after all, a _boy_ at a _Girl's Night,_ but he had announced his arrival with snacks and all was forgiven, so long as he swore to leave when we fell asleep. He had agreed with much solemnity, holding his hand over the ice cream tub he had brought.

I chuckled again. It wasn't the first time that night that Tiff and I had laughed at the gore, or at things that were supposed to make you cry, or at dramatic character deaths and painful histories. It was nice to not be the only one, to not have to hide the giggles at the sheer absurdity of this movie. Even the torture scene- as the killer cornered one of the victims- which would have made me freak out in the old days and cover my eyes/ears, didn't even make me shut down or tune out the movie. Especially after Tiff pointed out just how bad the so-called killer's acting was; and how pointless, false, and forced his 'motivations' were. We dissected his mind together, talking over his psychology and the absurdity of it, arguing about the validity of his insanity, while Vicky and Jade looked ready to hurl. Finally, Jade turned off the movie.

"Sorry guys," She said, looking a little pale. "Couldn't handle it."

"S'cool," Tiff said casually. "Natalia and I can finish laughing at it when you losers all fall asleep."

Vicky raised an eyebrow. "You challenging me?"

"We are indeedy," was Tiff's only response.

"You are _on,"_ Jade answered with a toothy grin. I could see from the still-pallid color on her face that she wasn't exactly looking forward to sleeping tonight, anyway. I weighed the benefits and risks of staying awake all night. I had a war to fight tomorrow, after all.

 _Yeah,_ I thought to myself. _Against humans._

"You're going _down,_ kiddos," I promised. "I am the master of staying awake."

And thus it went. We put on another movie, some newer science fiction flick that I found myself strangely involved in. There were aliens and spaceships and they came from the stars to kill us all, like no one on Earth had ever been _there_ before. I settled back into the couch, curling up there and letting myself relax a little. So far, the sleepover wasn't a total disaster. So far… things were okay.

Vicky was asleep first. Tiff was all for doodling on her face, but I stopped that in its tracks quick. Not because I particularly cared about face-doodling, but because it could easily lead to something bigger, something more… frightening. Some prank played on the wrong person that made them freak out and go berserk… And that 'wrong person' would most certainly be me.

Benny left eventually, claiming exhaustion and kissing Tiff briefly before he went. As usual, I was glad to see that little display of affection, though Jade cried 'PDA' and covered her eyes. It was sweet. It was how things should be.

Tiff and I sat next to each other as Jade eventually drifted, dozing on the couch before falling asleep entirely.

"And then there were two," Tiff said in a low, ominous tone as Jade passed out beside us. I smiled to myself, and we put the cheesy B-movie horror show on again, and once more began to debate the legitimacy of the character's psychology.

Tiff and I stayed up late. _Late,_ late. But we eventually called it a draw and decided to fall asleep, not that I planned on doing any such thing. But I'd seen her yawning, seen how exhausted she was. I, however, got into my sleeping bag on the floor, resting my head on my pillow, and stared up at the ceiling. I felt absurdly cold, considering that I was on Earth, and there was an emptiness to the side of me where Loki would usually be. I knew that he was sleeping, but fitfully. He had agreed to this, had agreed that it was the right decision, but neither of us particularly liked it.

I swallowed, feeling homesick. Pretty sad, since it had only been one night; but I was used to that. To that close-knit family, to being beside my fellow Avengers at all times. And if not by them, then by Loki.

But I missed the Avengers, too. I missed feeling the Tower shake every so often after someone exploded something. I missed knowing that JARVIS was watching everything, or that Tony was spying on me, or that the _spies_ were spying on me. I missed people who didn't make such a loud noise when they walked, or people who made _too much_ noise as they walked. I missed Clint and Natasha and Bruce, I missed Tony and above all, above everything else from the Tower, I missed Steve.

I hadn't seen Steve since the coronation. I'd barely gotten to talk to him. And I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever be able to talk to him in the same way ever again.

I twisted the ring on my finger, which was beginning to feel heavy, and more trouble than it was worth. It had been after the engagement that Steve had stopped talking to me, though he hadn't directly attributed it to that. _Was_ that it? Was _that_ why we hadn't talked?

Steve trusted Loki as part of the team. It was Steve who had welcomed us both onto said team. Steve who had made it official.

So why was he so upset about this?

The fact that Loki loved me was the reason he'd become an Avenger in the first place. It was what turned him against his worst nightmare. It was what made him uncaring of any death that Fraye could inflict upon him. It was what turned him around and made him into the person he now was.

So why was everyone-my parents, Steve, even Tony and the others on occasion- so _against_ that?

I was gritting my teeth in frustration when I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of a quiet whimper.

I sat upright, glancing around at the sleeping forms around me. Vicky and Jade, crammed in weird angles on the couch and recliner, respectively, were motionless. A few feet away from me on the floor, Tiff was very much the same. I listened closely, picking apart the silence, trying to dissect the darkness. I'd been lucky; with how many people there were, and with the bluff that I liked to read before bed, I'd managed to get Tiff to leave a small light on; but it had to be dimmed after a while, so the shadows were long and restless. I found my heart beginning to pound in my ears and thought for a moment of the low, primal growl of the Shadow Hounds; my body's own shivering seemed to create the same feeling inside me, the same vibrations in my bones.

There was another whimper. My eyes flashed to Tiff as her lip twitched. Her eyes closed a little tighter. Her hand curled around her sleeping bag.

I leaned a little closer to her. After a few minutes of quiet whispers of whines, her mouth occasionally opening to cry out in a silent scream, I finally decided that it had happened enough times-and that it was getting too loud- for me to ignore it.

Prying myself out of my sleeping bag, crawling out carefully, I maneuvered across the floor until I was kneeling down in front of her. Shaking her shoulder gently, I whispered in a tone not loud enough to be heard by anyone else, "Tiff."

No response. Her face went smooth for a moment… then twitched again.

"Tiff."

It was immediate. I felt the pain across my face before I even saw the hand heading towards me. Knuckles cracked against my jaw, and I immediately retreated, trying to regain my bearings, as Tiff exploded awake, gasping. The long, fast breath of air rattled in her lungs, sounding off in the world around me, and as she looked around, half-blinded by confusion, her hands began to shake. She, too, had retreated away from me, pushing herself aside in her sleeping bag, her hands falling into a loose block. It looked like it might have been a move borrowed from karate, though her form was not so great in her just-woken state.

I rubbed my jaw, wincing, as she stared at me wildly. It took her a long time to put the pieces together, to understand what had happened, and when she did, her shoulders slumped, and all the air went out of her lungs in a relieved sigh. "Crap… Natalie… Natalie, I'm so sorry."

I rubbed my jaw again. The blow hadn't been hard enough to bruise. "S'all right," I answered. "Had worse."

She ran her hands down her face, cursing under her breath. I let her get it out of her system before she went on, "Really. I'm… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean… I would _never_ -"

"It's forgotten, Tiff," I answered, waving a hand. The dull, throbbing pain was already fading. "I'm not exactly a great riser myself."

She gave me a sad little smile at that and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. When her hands fell back into her lap, she shuddered, the movement traveling through her whole form. "Um… Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't."

"It was just a nightmare," she said, looking down. And then she shook her head and laughed a bit. "No big deal. I just… freaked, I guess."

"Well, we've all got those." I looked at her and felt something cold in my stomach. I'd been worried about just this occurrence, hadn't I? It seemed… a little odd, that it should happen to Tiff instead. S'far as I knew, she didn't have anything so… traumatizing.

 _Well, nightmares don't have to come from trauma,_ I reminded myself as Tiff looked down. "Yeah."

I smiled a little at her and backed away, heading back towards my sleeping bag. "You should get some sleep, Tiff."

"I should," She agreed, but I could tell she wasn't _agreeing,_ agreeing. Halfway back to my sleeping bag, I turned around to face her.

"But you're not going to." I guessed.

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Nope. Not a chance."

I chuckled in response and sat down so that I was facing her again. We were quiet for a length of time that I felt appropriate before I asked my question: "Do you want to talk about it?"

I gave her a choice in the matter, did not demand that she tell me, and mentally reminded myself not to get mad if she did not. I was used to such things: after all, Loki had once been my patient. As had all of the other Avengers. I was used to tiptoeing delicately around things; and after all that, speaking to Tiff like a shrink would was a cakewalk.

She didn't respond for a moment, and I did not repeat my question, or alter it in any way. I just waited. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought, gnawing away at it carefully.

Finally, "I lied to you."

I blinked, completely startled. This was a turn of conversation I hadn't expected. Her eyes were on her lap as her hands curled into fists on her thighs, but after a moment, she turned her gaze up to me. Her eyes were strangely glassy. "I told you that the guns I owned… that some of them were registered to my parents. That I lived with them. I told everyone that they were gone for a few days, and that's why they're not here right now. I lied, Natalie. My parents didn't leave. I don't live with them."

My eyebrows furrowed. "So where are they?" I asked, in the most gentle and soothing tone that I knew how to use.

Her eyes became even glassier. She didn't answer, but as her head lowered and a single tear dropped from her eyelashes and directly onto the back of her hand, I realized that I didn't need an answer. Swallowing as she shook, I waited for her to regain some phantom of control before whispering, "I'm so sorry."

She wiped her fingers under her eyes, sniffing. Her nose was slowly turning red, and she didn't seem to want to meet my eye. I gave her another few, long seconds before I spoke again. "How did they die?"

She didn't seem willing to talk about it, and I did not press the issue. I let her swallow back her tears, let her force the ache away. It was not hard to see where the nightmares had come from now; and if she was lying about it, if she was telling no one about it, and if the memory of it was still this close to the surface, then it had clearly not happened long ago. The wound was still raw.

A few moments after she seemed to have steadied herself, to have regained her emotional balance, she spoke. "They were revolutionaries. We… we all were. Fighting Loki's reign, alongside your parents." She looked to me and looked down again. "I didn't know they were your parents at the time, but…" She stopped herself quickly, before she could follow down that path. Before she could distract herself from the painful truths. She had to force them out now, or they would never come; she could not afford tangents.

"I was out… _grocery shopping._ Of all things, right? Just getting _food._ Keeping up the appearance that we were just a normal family, shopping in local stores and just… pretending to live." She was shaking again, but the tears were no longer there. "I was in my car, driving home, listening to my CD player just like any other damn day… And I came back home just in time to see my house burning to the ground."

She was quiet again; and by now, she was not the only one who was shaking. Loki and I liked to pretend that this part of his reign did not exist. We liked to tell ourselves that so many more thousands of people could have died if we had not done what we did. But the fact stood that thousands of people had still _died_ because of the decision that Loki had made. The decision that I had _let_ him make. Just because I hadn't known about them before, didn't mean that they didn't exist. Didn't mean that they weren't out there, weren't leaving behind their friends and families when their lives had been taken.

"I didn't hesitate," Tiff went on, "Didn't hang around for them to see me. But I didn't have to. I still had time to see the body bags. All three of them." Her eyes closed tightly, and another crystal drop of water caught between her eyelashes. "They were closing the last one over my baby brother's face as I drove by. As though that could stop me from seeing the damn _bullet wound_ in his forehead."

 _Baby brother…_

My breath was hitching. Bad. This was so bad. This was so much worse then what I had planned for. Because this was anger and rage and pain and it was all mixed into one, and that was what always made me lose it, that was what made my heart pound and my skin glow and made me become untouchable behind a field of energy and… and it was so much pain. Because I cared for Tiff. I hadn't realized that until this moment, but I really, really _cared_ abouther. I hadn't thought that I did. I hadn't thought that I trusted her. Because I trusted no one. But now… now I knew that I did, because I was feeling this, I was feeling her pain and feeling how close the encounter was and how close she had come to dying and _why would they kill a child, why would they kill her baby brother why would anyone do that?_

Who _had_ done it?

Shay Whitacre. Jenner Goldsclove.

Murmur.

These were the three in charge of those soldiers, these were the three that fought the revolution, that sent soldiers against them and spies among them, that weeded out the weaker links and found the leaders, my parents, amid the lines of codes and the weapons of a rebellion… these were the people who had been punished.

All but one.

All but the one that was now coming after me and the Avengers. Me and my _family._

I decided then, that Murmur would die. It was a very simple decision, once it had been made. But there would be no more threats, no more bluster, and if I had him helpless, I would not capture him, would not send him to S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. He would not even rot in a Jotun jail, though admittedly the thought was tempting. But no. He would die. And that was that.

"I get it," Tiff said after a moment, breaking me out of my reverie. Her voice was thick and low, guttural in her tear-soaked rage. "I understand. We were the revolutionaries. We were fighting a war and we were on the losing side. They died as soldiers." Her hands were trembling, her fists were clenched so hard. "But Taniel was _seven._ _ **Seven.**_ My parents didn't even let him fight, didn't let him run messages, didn't let him do _anything_. They didn't even let him _know_ that they were part of the rebellion. And those _murderers_ put a _bullet_ in his skull. They shot a _seven-year-old_ _ **child**_ at point-blank range, and none of them even looked concerned about it. Not one of them cared."

The world was swallowed by silence. "And when the world went back to normal?" I found myself asking. "Did they… Were they ever caught? Punished?"

"Caught? Oh, yeah they were caught. Punished?" She spat on the ground. "Not a chance in hell. Every last one of them claimed that they were following orders. One even said he was freaking _brainwashed._ But people say that his eyes would've turned blue, and they were the friggin' muddiest _brown_ I'd ever seen in my life."

My hands clenched, too. Loki had brainwashed absolutely _no one_ during his reign. His soldiers worked for him because they craved power. His generals worked for him because they had been assigned by Fraye. No one's wills and no one's minds had been taken. All thoughts were their own.

 _Those damned child-murderers got away Scott-free and not one shit was given._

 _Is this the world he left behind?_

 _Is this the world I let him create?_

I forced that thought aside. Loki wasn't in his mind. He was no more on the throne of Midgard than I was. He held power and he held command, but what use is that, when you have no thought and no ability to wield it?

"I tracked them down," She said, swallowing. "I tracked them all down. I found out where they lived. I knew every one of their names and everything that they had ever done."

The look in her eye as she said this scared me, but only because it made sense. That fury and loathing, that livid sheen in her eyes, it made sense. These men had killed her parents. Her baby brother. I lowered my voice considerably and asked, "And when you found them, what did you do?"

"Gave 'em all ice cream and candy. What in the hell do you _think_ I did?"

Her voice was strangely hoarse and strained. It had lowered in pitch and tone, and sounded strange with the accompaniment of the other sleepers' snores. Vicky and Jade, sleeping the darkness away, were both entirely oblivious to these nighttime confessions.

I made my voice as even as I could as I asked, "Did you kill them?"

Her eyes sharpened with suspicion. I held her gaze without blinking. I knew what I would reply to her in either case. I knew what I would say to her, no matter what words came out of her next. And there would be no condemnation from me.

She held my gaze for a long time, her face hard and cold. It was a sign of something very great- trust, perhaps? Necessity?- that someone would confess a murder to another. Particularly when we had barely met a few months ago. But who had not become a monster of one form or another in the days that had passed? Who had not committed terrible, vile deeds during this war of love and hate, passion and apathy? Who had not, in one way or another, become a part of the darkness that consumed the world?

But this was a trust-or a necessity- that Tiff did not show me. She turned away. "No," She answered. "I didn't take it that far."

It was a lie. And I think she was aware that I knew this. But my answer did not change from what I had planned and prepared. Sliding my fingers into the crook of my elbow, lifting the glove off of the skin there with two of them, I pulled the glove down my arm, off of my wrist, off of my hand, turning it inside out as it went. She didn't look at me until I had placed my inner forearm directly beneath her line of sight.

Her eyes turned down, reading the word carved into my arm. Shock and revulsion crossed her features as she turned to me.

But now _I_ was not looking at _her._ I did not note her reactions or try to think of what she would say. I could not bear to. I knew the assumptions inside of her, knew what she was thinking, knew who she believed had done this to me. Let her believe it. I could not correct her for the sake of 'national security'… but just because it was Loki's name in my arm did not mean that it was he who had tortured me. Just someone acting under his name; like the soldiers who had taken her brother from her.

"Government work," I said, shaking my head and laughing so bitterly that my voice cracked. "Gets you in a hell of a lot of trouble when that government falls." I swallowed. "First day of the invasion, I was caught. Thrown in a dark cell, where I waited… and waited, and waited, and waited. Until finally, this bitch came into that cell and she tied me to a chair and…" I closed my eyes. It took me a moment before I could open them again, before I could pull my arm back to my body and pull the glove over the scars there. "Well, you can imagine the rest."

There was quiet. And then I turned and steady, hard, unyielding gaze to Tiff. "And when all was said and done, Tiff, I found my torturer, and I killed her. And you know, I don't even have the _guts_ to feel sorry about it."

Tiff was watching me. There was a silent horror in her eyes, her eyes that were too glassy, as she looked at me. And then she closed those eyes and turned away. More tears were running down her face now, not so few, not so small, just pouring down her cheeks in shining trails.

"So I killed them," She breathed. "I killed them all. Every last one of them." Her eyes turned to me. "And I shot the last one right in front of his four-year-old daughter. I didn't even realize that she was there, hiding in the closet." Her voice was trembling. "So what exactly does that make me, Natalie?"

She laughed at the shock on my face, a bark of a laugh that was a little too loud; and for a second, we both reflexively went quiet, checking on the others' breathing. When we were certain that they were as deeply asleep as ever, she laughed again, more quietly this time, shaking her head. "Y'know, S.H.I.E.L.D. helped fix me up. Got me back in my life after my parents died- you know, they were revolutionaries, they were… _remembered_ and _honored_ n'shit- and so S.H.I.E.L.D. helped me get this house and helped me find a job and helped me back into college and then they left me alone and everything was supposed to be perfect, supposed to not have happened and it _did._ It all _happened._ My brother was _shot,_ my parents _shot,_ my house burned to the ground and all of those assholes that did it, I wiped them clean off the face

of the earth and what do I become for my troubles?" She shook her head. "I become _just like them."_ Her hands tightened. "I became just like them, all for the sake of killing the bullet, killing the trigger; but never once touching the person who fired the bullet, the one who pulled the trigger, the one who wielded the gun in the first place."

I couldn't say a word for a long time, and Tiff seemed in no way inclined to keep talking. And so we sat in the silence of our shared misery, sat in the emptiness left behind by our bloodied admissions. Fraye had no family left. Killing her was almost… a mercy. It was not why I had done it, but the fact stood that it was a mercy nonetheless.

But Tiff had killed someone's father. Right in front of his little girl. That child had seen someone that she had never met just walk inside and fire a bullet into her father, had seen someone with enough hatred in her heart to kill. And what would that child grow up to be? Would she learn to forgive? Would she learn to let the past be the past? Or would this endless cycle of revenge continue? Would she one day track down Tiff, as Tiff had tracked down her father? Would she one day put a bullet in Tiff's heart, smiling as she did it, hatred in her eyes?

And in this future time when this little girl was all grown up, would Tiff have a family by then? Would she have a husband? A child? Maybe a little one, locked in the closet and watching her mother being murdered…?

And this cycle of blood had all been started by a deal made between an insane king and a diseased wraith of shadow…

Because of a promise made between the Torturer and the Tortured…

I lowered my head, my hair falling in front of my face. Could it hide me? Could it hide the shame of the decisions I had made? The decisions that I had let Loki make?

Did it help, that I had bled with these people? Or did I have to die with them to redeem the things that I had done? The choices I had made? Was it enough that I had saved so many other lives, or was there ever an option to save them _all?_

I had forgiven Loki for the scars in my skin. But could I forgive him for the deaths of others?

Could he ever forgive me for making him into that?

 _It wasn't him. It wasn't me. It was Fraye. It was always Fraye._

I almost laughed; I'd gotten so good at lying that, for the longest time, I'd even managed to lie to myself. And somehow, I didn't know how to stop. Because there were so many doubts in my mind, so many regrets…

 _I'm not just marrying an alien. I'm marrying a murderer._

 _But that's okay, right?_

 _Because I'm a murderer, too._

Tiff was quiet again, sniffling and sobbing. After a moment, I found my arm wrapping around her. It was mostly reflexive, a natural gesture. I was meant to be a Healer. It's what I wanted to be, before all of this. Before the Avengers, before the bubble, before Loki and before Fraye. I wanted to heal people. To tend to sick minds and make them well. That was all I wanted to be.

Why couldn't I be that?

Tiff cried into my shoulder while I sat there. My eyes were dry, even as something inside of me felt as though it was withering. We stayed like that until late in the night, until Tiff had cried all of her tears and ruined my shirt, until she had nothing left to cry out, until the darkness swallowed her sobs. We stayed until Tiff's breathing relaxed. And as eventually, exhausted, her breathing grew deeper and she fell asleep sitting upright and leaning against my shoulder… I stayed. I stayed staring into the darkness that I had become, into the shadows that had stolen all life and all reason from me, that had stolen my guilt for killing Fraye and imbued me instead with the guilt of a thousand other lives. Innocents. Men and women and children alike, all with lives and all with loves.

I stayed awake as Tiff fell all but limp, and I stayed there until my arm went numb beneath her weight. I stared at the darkened window until, hours later, the sun began to rise, the sky lightening into day as the dawn came. Feather-light brushes of streaming sunlight stained the dust motes dawn-fire orange, making them dance in hues of gold as I watched the sky lightening the polluted air from grey to blue. As I watched the city that never slept re-awaken into a new day.

And, hidden among the houses and skyscrapers, the horizon bled a deep crimson, spreading its ruby hues across the ground and in between the cracks of blackened buildings. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. Someone was going to die today. Murmur, his men… someone would bleed out with that horizon.

I would make sure of it.

* * *

I didn't need the gun that rested in my belt, nor the knife that was sheathed just beside it. I carried them regardless.

The Avengers were watching me carefully. They pretended they were not, but I felt their eyes on me from all angles. Some were more obvious than others; Tony, particularly, was more conspicuous then the other three. But Clint's and Natasha's eyes were still burning holes into my back wherever I went, regardless of their surreptitious nature.

And Loki… Loki had not looked away from me since he had arrived on Earth earlier this morning. The lack of sleep and the events of the night before all concerned him, but he dared not say a word concerning them. He had embraced me, briefly, and he had spoken every time there was a point I wished to get across to the others, ensuring that I did not need to speak at all, but otherwise he had done nothing. Said nothing.

What could be said?

We crept up to the compound stealthily, with all the grace and ease that always came with such missions. I hadn't spoken a word to any of the Avengers all morning, and so it was the simplest of things, for me to remain silent at the moment.

There were hand signals that flashed between Natasha and Clint; and moments later, she headed off. To do recon, I supposed. A second later, Clint informed us that this was, indeed, the case, and we all found respective areas to hide. Loki and I vanished behind a corner while the Hawk found a perch somewhere. Stark took to the air; he could see a lot further to the ground than the ground could see to him. Banner and Steve, of course, were not here; Steve was still away on his missions, and Bruce… well, this was not a job that would take the Hulk. Still, we were all feeling the very acute sting of being without our team leader, and missing Banner was like missing a limb. But we would survive it.

Loki's hand was on my shoulder as we waited. Roughly ten minutes later, Natasha's voice came through the headset that we were all wearing. _"West entrance is the least guarded. Only four men, but there are cameras everywhere. The whole place is wired; cameras, motion detectors… the second we're spotted by any of them, an alarm will go off."_

" _Alarm?"_ Clint asked. _"Nothing more serious?"_

" _Not that I can tell,"_ Natasha answered.

"No alarms," Loki said beside me, hissing out the curt, brusque orders into his headset. They were my words, even if it was his voice. But I wasn't speaking. Not yet. "If Murmur hears them, he'll vanish. We need him here, and we need him alive."

" _Agreed,"_ Hawkeye said. _"He's slippery. We have to handle this delicately."_

I studied the compound, the guarded entrances. The place was like a small fortress, dropped at the edge of the city. It had no rhyme or reason, no point for being here, for existing. But it existed nonetheless.

"And if you didn't?" Loki asked, and now I was directly hijacking his vocal cords. There was none of Loki's influence on his words, and I wondered distantly if the others would recognize that by the vaguely Midgardian speech pattern; or if it was just so commonplace now that they no longer cared. "If alarms didn't matter? How fast could you take this place?"

There was a moment as Natasha considered. _"With all of us? Five minutes, easy."_

"And without Loki and I?" Loki paused, then corrected, "Natalie and I?"

No one commented on this lapse. _"Why?"_ Barton asked, suspicious.

"We have a plan," I answered through Loki. He looked at me, meeting my eyes. Thoughts rushed between us, a thousand different plots and strategies, narrowing down the options… and when Loki was certain that I would be willing to do what it took, and when I was certain that he would, and when we both knew that we were sick enough of Murmur and his games to do this, the plan resolved in our minds and our decision was made as one. "Give us twenty minutes. Then take it."

There was a pause. _"And what is this revolutionary, life-changing idea of yours?"_ Tony inquired with an oozing politeness moments later.

"You'll see," I answered, and it was the first time I spoke. Tearing my headset off, I tossed it to the ground. Loki did the same, and crushed both beneath his boot, slowly waving a hand, his spear materializing inside of it moments later. I pulled the gun from my belt, exchanged a look with my fiancée, and grinned dangerously. Then the two of us swept forwards, moving in sync and as one.

Right towards the front door.

* * *

Tony cursed, running a few diagnostics on his headphones. "Nat, Cow Boy, you read?"

" _Forget it, Tony,"_ Clint's voice entered his ear after a moment. _"They've taken off their headsets. We're on our own."_

" _Or they are,"_ Natasha answered coolly. _"Hawkeye, do you have eyes on them?"_

" _Not ye… ah. Yeah, I have a visual."_ He moved to a better place on his perch. Tony could see him, balancing below. How Clint got to such high places so quickly was beyond him. Maybe even figurative Hawks had wings.

" _Any idea what they might be planning?"_ Natasha inquired.

There was silence and static for a moment. And then, Clint said, " _It looks like it might be…"_ there was a sound in Stark's ear, like someone swallowing. " _Sydney."_

" _Sydney?"_ Natasha demanded. " _As in Sydney,_ _ **Australia?**_ "

" _That's the one,"_ Clint confirmed in a voice that was not quite hoarse and not quite weak, but perhaps on its way towards such adjectives.

There was a beat of horrified silence from the spies. At least, Tony assumed it was horrified. It was hard to know how 'silence' could sound like any emotion, let alone horror, but all indicators pointed in that direction.

" _She wouldn't,"_ Natasha answered after a moment. _"She's not ready for that. Loki wouldn't let her, he…_ _ **he**_ _wouldn't even be ready for that!"_ It was hard to describe her tone; emphatic and hostile, perhaps? No, there was nowhere near such emotion in her tone.

"Why?" Stark asked, a little annoyed at not knowing something. He liked to be the smartest guy in the room, thank you very much, even if the room was really only a figurative interpretation, and their only real methods of communication was the piece of tech in his ear… whatever, he didn't like someone else acting smarter than him. "What happened in Sydney?"

" _Looks like they don't care so much,"_ Clint answered Natasha but not Stark.

"Whathappenedin _Sydney?"_ Tony repeated.

Another lengthy burst of static. And then Natasha told him.

Tony's blood went cold.

" _They're in,"_ Clint breathed.

* * *

There was a flash of red across my eyes as pain exploded down my jaw. Flashes of light spattered the backs of my eyelids, like one of the sparklers I'd play with as a kid on the Fourth of July; just without all of the smoke. The chair beneath me moved back less than a quarter of an inch, pushed back by the force of the blow.

And then the pain was forced down, receding into nothing. I spat blood onto the floor, being certain to make it look like it was a painful process, like it was causing me some great agony. Choking up the blood and letting it dribble in a cacophony of sound that was little more than trumped-up special effects. The moan that came out of my throat was not real, nor was the half-sob as I looked up to Blake, the knife-wielder from last time, who still bore the memory of our last encounter by means of the half-healed cut on his bare chest.

As I playacted with my pain, Loki snarled and spat his hatred towards those that held us, a hint of desperation beginning to creep into his tone. "I swear to you, mortals, I swear to you that you will not _live_ to regret this day-"

"Ah, shaddup," The guy beside him drove the taser into his arm, sending electric convulsions through Loki's entire form. I was impressed by the human ingenuity behind said tazer; electricity sometimes worked against what bullets would not. They were pumping a pretty high voltage into the Trickster, which was mildly irritating; but not nearly as debilitating as he was leading them to believe.

I snarled out a few words not intended for delicate ears or small children as I wrestled against the bindings on my wrists. While Loki was in chains- and a fair number of them- I was in nothing but ropes. They clearly thought me the lesser threat; which told me a lot about what they knew of my abilities. There was a fair number of men in the room, and a larger number outside of the door, all keeping an eye on Loki: clearly, they were not underestimating _him._ And why would they? He had made them kneel to him, had made them bow, had stood as their king. On his throne and claiming to be immortal, he had seemed so untouchable, undefeatable. He seemed to have but one weakness; and the oldest one of all. A girl.

 _Me._

But I was no more a weakness then I was trapped in this room. These men-and two women- would learn that soon enough.

I counted them again, swiftly. Seven people total, at least _inside_ the room. But still no Murmur.

I knew he wasn't here. I knew it, and I knew that when the Avengers raided the place, they would confirm it. But I would not leave here empty-handed and I would do everything that I could to make sure that I would find him. And that he would feel whatever blow I decided to deal onto this place.

Blake grinned as he leaned on my chair, on my shoulder, his fingers digging in deep. I concentrated my mind on shutting down the nerves in that area; and though I had no such ability, the image in my mind helped me to numb my thoughts to the pain. It was minor. It was nothing like what I had expected, and it almost made me want to laugh at how pitiful it was. Maybe Blake was just building up to worse things-that was a valid method- but I highly doubted it. His little blade danced in the hand that was not holding my shoulder in an iron grip. "Now, now, your majesty, no need to get so worked up. Just tell us what we wanted to know about the Avengers…" his blade was suddenly flashing through the air. It pressed against my cheek, not quite hard enough to cut. But I felt the cold metal against my skin, the unforgiving, thin edge of a razor blade. "And I won't have to rid the world of one more pretty face."

 _Dear realms, is his hand actually_ _ **shaking?**_

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Blake turned to me, smiling a predator's smile. "I'd hate to have to do so. There is so little beauty left in the world."

Instead of laughing-like I really, _really_ wanted to- I snarled through the blood in my mouth, "Bite me."

He grinned again. There was more pain, a strike that sent my head snapping back, my jaw aching once more. Instinctively, Loki reached for me, tugging against his chains. Act or no act, the blow shattered through us both, a reverberation of tremors that shook us both to our cores. Loki was tasting real blood in his mouth, seeking real vengeance, by the time Blake pulled his hand back and my ears stopped ringing.

It had been the simplest of things, for us to get caught. And this was almost as easy. But it hadn't gotten me what I wanted, and that, _that,_ was the worst part. I was grinding my teeth in frustration as Blake prattled on an on in a slithery voice about what was to come if Loki didn't talk. With each word, Loki's fists grew tighter, his eyes blazing with a brighter, colder flame. But I was barely paying attention. It was Murmur who had killed Tiff's brother; or at the very least, close enough. It was the generals who had killed so many, and it was this general who had gotten away free when everything else had crumbled.

"I don't _know anything_ about the Avengers!" Loki snapped as Blake stopped talking. I tuned the conversation back in. " _Fraye_ defeated them, contained them! I wasn't even _there!_ " He glared at the men in disgust. But the vengeance inside of him had been forced aside beneath cold, stark reality; there was no point for such vengeance. I was not really hurt. I was, in fact, amused by it all.

 _Our only concern is the mission,_ I said consolingly. _Not this. This is nothing. He's no Fraye, trust me._

Loki did not respond, though he clearly registered these words. I kept directing a harsh glare at Blake as he made little tsk-tsk noises. "Now, you see, that's exactly the kind of can't-do attitude that's gonna get you in trouble here, your majesty. You and your little girlfriend." His hand ran down my cheek, almost gently. Trying to act sweet and kind while he cut me apart. Been there. Done that. Bought the T-Shirt.

He walked behind me. There was a slash of pain across my shoulders, and I screamed dutifully, for a few seconds longer than I needed to. Collapsing in my chair, I tried to squeeze out a few tears. I wished he _would_ aim for the face; maybe he'd get the nose, or near the eyes, and something would activate my tear ducts. 'Cause right now I had jack shit, and it bugged me. This wasn't so convincing without tears.

I tried to look exhausted, and was now grateful that I hadn't slept the night before. A much more convincing performance overall. I deserved an Oscar. I looked up to Loki, giving him a look of desperation for only a few seconds before hardening my features again. Inside, I was getting bored, wondering when I could put a bullet into someone. Waiting for the klaxon that would announce the other Avengers' arrival.

There was more pain, this time a little more intense, across my back. I screamed again, and this time Loki cried out with me, an echoing scream of desperation: _"Please!"_

I saw Blake smirking as he crossed in front of me again, and I collapsed again in my chair, breathing raggedly. "Loki," I croaked. "Don't."

His eyes were tight as he watched me, looking helpless and afraid. Oscar number two went to my darling fiancée. "Just… stop." He all but begged. "Stop hurting her."

Blake knelt down in front of him so that they were at eye level. "It can all end very quickly, you know," he promised. "We just need a few answers. A few… _suggestions,_ on what might bring the Avengers down a few pegs. And then you and your lovely little lady are free to go. Scout's honor."

Loki gave him a look of pure hate and loathing, sheer revulsion in his glittering green eyes. "Don't tell him _anything!_ " I screeched, twisting and writhing about in my ropes. "Don't you _dare!"_

Blake turned to me, smiling. "I can make things worse for you both," he promised. "I haven't even broken any bones yet." He laughed a little. Loki's eyes narrowed into slits as ice began to coat the inside of his cuffs.

 _Oh, puh-lease. Loki, don't let this idiot get to you. He's all bluster._ I wanted to smile dangerously, but that didn't really go along with the terrified-but-angry-captive routine I had going here, so I didn't. _The poor dear is more scared then we are._

And then Loki was struck with a burst of inspiration. "Murmur," he said firmly. "I will tell everything to Murmur. But to no one _but_ Murmur."

 _Clever boy,_ I cooed in my head, spitting more blood. Gah, it was like a frigging leaky faucet, dripping red from the cut lip and the little nicks above my teeth.

If Loki asked for Murmur directly like that, no matter how unlikely it was that a prisoner would get that wish… it was just possible that we would learn his location. And if not, then I would figure it out after all of this… unpleasantness.

"I'm afraid he's in a business meeting," Blake said, still smiling his predator's smile. "So he couldn't be in town this evening."

"Didn't deign us important enough, huh?" I asked, glaring up at Blake. "He went through the trouble of kidnapping me; he should at least have the decency to show up to the after-party."

 _So that I can shoot you right in the throat like I promised, you low-life scum._

"Well, what can I say?" Blake asked, looking to Loki. "You're not the king anymore."

If he thought the statement would get to Loki, he was wrong; but Loki pretended that it did. Letting out a disgusted sound that was almost a half-growl, he turned to the side, looking away from Blake. My current 'torturer'- I was hesitant to put the label on this rookie- seemed to think he'd hit a nerve. It was an easy song and dance, and very fun to play with. But as I'd told Murmur; this was a game that was fast getting old. I was _bored._

I pretended to give Loki a pitying look, though we both knew that there were good reasons for Loki's sacrifice of the Midgardian throne, and that he never wished to claim said throne again.

"You're just not… _important_ enough," Blake went on. Loki gave him his most venomous of glares.

"If you knew who I truly was, mortal, you would be on your knees righ-"

"I think I already know as much," Blake cut him off. "You showed us all your hand pretty clearly, last time you were on Earth." He chuckled as I waited impatiently for the alarm that would announce the Avengers' presence. Blake's hand took my chin gently, and he pressed the knife to my cheek. "So," he said, slowly running it down my skin. I met his eyes and winced convincingly as the line of red opened on my cheek. Finally, my eyes were starting to prickle. But it wasn't enough for tears, not yet. "Tell me. What can we do to even the playing field, as far as the Avengers are concerned?"

Loki thrashed against the chains, lunging towards Blake. The taser was pressed against him again, and he convulsed, falling into a half-sit, half-kneel on his chair and the floor, looking pathetic and broken and weak in the chains. My vision turned red. They would pay for that. They would pay very dearly.

"I'm waiting, dear king. I'm waiting for your response."

And that was when the alarms started.

 _Finally,_ I thought to myself. Loki and I looked up to Blake simultaneously. As one, we smiled with all of our teeth and straightened in our chairs.

"You?" We chorused. "You can do nothing. Nothing but die."

The ropes had snapped in two seconds, my force field flared, the world exploding into easy-to-manage pinpoints. Ice shattered the shackles that bound Loki's wrists, and his spear materialized back in his hand mere half-moments later. He lanced it through the chest of one captor as I drove my knee into the back of Blake's. Whirling around in almost a full circle, I thrust a sharp point through a second man's throat as he charged towards me. Blood splattered against the shield, but I barely noticed in my hunt of a third man, driving him against the wall and knocking him out cold. The field wrapped around Loki, as it always did, protecting him inside of the shield with me as I expanded the entire thing into the full dimensions of the room, so that it filled every corner, every nook and cranny… the men slammed into walls and floors, brought down in heartbeats.

The alarms kept wailing as I snapped the force field back to my skin and let it flicker off. I glanced around the room to see who was still living; only three casualties to count. A fair number. And Blake was still alive.

He was conscious. His eyes were wide, huge as they stared, and he scrambled towards the door in a panic, trying to pull himself up from his hands and knees as he ran.

I didn't even have time to attempt an attack before Loki had pounced, moving with all the deadly grace and speed of a true, wild predator; nothing like what Blake had emulated before. Loki's hand clamped around the back of Blake's neck, pulling him backwards and flinging him to the ground, and Blake cried out as he crashed to the stone floor. Loki whirled on him, ice spreading across his hands and freezing his spear, making frosted mist flow around its tip as he drove the point within an inch of Blake's face.

Blake's 'torture' had been a breeze. A walk in the park. A day in the life of Natalie Frost, just your typical, average psychopathic attempt on my life. It was no big deal. It was actually pretty funny. But the hate in Loki's eyes, the sheer _repugnance,_ the _abhorrence_ on his face as he looked at the man who had done it was very genuine. It was perfectly honest and real and Loki was trembling, shaking, keeping himself from driving that spear further by nothing more than sheer willpower; and that would not last much longer.

Roaring in rage and frustration, Loki raised the spear. Blake winced, closing his eyes, as I shouted, "Loki, don't! We need him alive!"

Loki stopped himself just as the tip pierced skin. Blake cried out, a pathetic little whimper of a sound, and trembled as Loki waited. Waited for control. Waited to regain some part of his sanity. His green eyes still crackled and his spear was still glowing with brilliant blue.

Finally, however, he straightened. Taking a careful step back, he gestured for me to stand forward. I did so.

Blake looked between the two of us. And then he laughed, though more nervously then before. Sweat was on his forehead and at the collar of his shirt. All around us, the sirens cried on. "Oh, I get it," he said, with a scared giggle. "Good cop, bad cop, right? You pulling your 'psycho' partner off of me, thinking I'll be afraid 'cause he used to be my king?" He spat upwards, as though trying to hit my face. He missed by a mile. "I'm not scared of a false king!"

My head tilted to the side. "Good. Don't be scared of him." I yanked him off the ground, pulled him to the side and dragged him across the room, depositing him in what was once Loki's chair. Wrapping what was left of the chains around his wrists so tightly that they bit into skin, Loki fused the metal together with the stone floor, binding him there. "Be scared of me," I hissed into Blake's face, feeling the blood on my face dripping down onto his shoulder and chest. "Because there's plenty psycho here to go around."

It was Blake's knife that I scooped up off the floor, his knife that I began to toy with, as I began walking back and forth across the room. "Where is Murmur?" I asked, in a quiet voice.

"What makes you think I know?"

I was across the room faster than the kid could blink, blade at his throat. "Where is he?" I repeated, without any change of tone.

He cursed at me, making a few less-then-polite suggestions of what I could do with the knife in my hands. But he was still shaking. He looked… scared. He really _was_ a damn _rookie,_ wasn't he?

I sighed heavily and pulled the other chair across the room, closer to him. Sitting down on it backwards, I used the knife to clean dirt out from under my fingernails in a casual way. "You wanna know one of the worst things about being tortured, Blake?" I looked over the silver blade so that I could meet his eyes. "It's when they know your name. If they don't, then hey, you're just an assignment to them, just a number in a file. You don't mean anything to them. You're nobody." I grinned. "But if they know your name… well, that's different, Blake. Then they know a little more about you. And you start to wonder what kind of scum could do that to you; and you don't feel _safe,_ Blake. 'Cause then you wonder what else they know. Your phone number? Your address? The addresses of your friends and family?" I waved the knife around a few times as I spoke, to emphasize my point. Heh, point. Weaponry puns.

"You think you can scare me?" He hissed. But it was very, very clear that I already had.

I smiled. "Oh, I don't need to." I stood. "You're a very bad torturer, Blake. Your hands shook and you lacked the right… confidence." I twirled the knife in front of his nose. He was shaking even worse now, trembling from head to toe, and I swore I saw moisture in his eyes. "But I know everything about the subject. And I'm more than happy to give you a few… lessons." I pressed the blade against his cheek and slowly, _slowly_ drew it down his face. The cut I created was shallow, but I saw Blake cringe, saw his breath coming in hitches with each ticking nano-second.

"No!" He whisper-exclaimed. "No, that's… That's fine," he said quickly. "I'll…" he looked down. "I'll tell you what you want but I swear, I _swear,_ I don't know where Murmur is. He just cut out this morning and told us to continue with the mission."

Loki and I exchanged a look as I pulled the knife away from Blake. Loki nodded. I turned back to Blake.

"Fine," I said. "What do you know about any ulterior motives?"


	5. The Torture of Politics

I tossed the closed pocketknife to Natasha as I exited the room, sniggering loudly. "Well, that was fun," I said cheerily.

The other Avengers stared at me, blood-stained and bruised as I was. Loki walked beside me with confident strides, saying not a word.

"Murmur's not in the building," I noted, sighing heavily as I leaned my back against the wall and kicked out my legs a bit. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I mused, "And his men don't seem to know anything about what was really going on." I spat on the floor, blood and saliva seeping into the cracks between the stone slabs. "Looks like this whole thing was a bust."

"Natalie…" It was Tony who stepped towards me, Tony who came closer and tried to examine the new soon-to-be-bruising and the cuts on my back and face. "Are you okay? What happened?"

I shrugged. "Flesh wounds. They'll heal." I grinned, shaking my head back and forth. "Worst part about it was that the stupid rookie's hand kept shaking." I chuckled once, as I'd wanted to do the whole time. Tilting my head towards the door I'd just left, I added, "He's in there, chained to a chair. Him and a majority of the others are unconscious, so if S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to come clean things up, that's up to them."

"A chair?" Barton asked, his words very hard. Natasha opened the pocketknife as he said this, revealing the blade, and the blood all over it.

"Well, we had to get certain information," I pointed out. "Didn't take long. One little scratch and the guy sings like a canary," I snickered. The other Avengers were watching me in horror, in shock. My eyes hardened as I saw those looks on their faces. What? Were they mad at me for this? Angry that I'd done something so monstrous? Had they not been living with me for months now? Hadn't they known me for years? You'd think they'd know what I was by now…

And if they were angry about this, if they were mad at what I'd done… well that was pretty hypocritical of them, wasn't it? Natasha and Clint fell pretty well into the 'Torturer and Tortured' category, _didn't they?_

I flipped my hair behind my shoulder, an angry movement as opposed to an airy one, and I whirled around, stalking down the hall, pretending to not have noticed the intense disapproval in their eyes, even as it curdled something in my gut and made my blood feel sour. Keeping my tone professional, I said, "So we'll have to find Murmur some other way. I say we keep a watch on the city; but I doubt his men will try anything on my friends for a while. My guess is that they were all here today." I frowned. "Tony, see if you can hack any of the tech, find out where they're going. I'll keep watch on everyone for a few days, until we're sure they're in the clear. If Murmur still wants us after this debacle, he'll contact us again. I'm sure of it."

There was a long silence as Loki walked beside me, his steps in tandem with mine. And then Clint seemed to recognize that there was nothing he could say concerning the issue, concerning the new wounds on my skin or the ones I had opened on Blake. He walked forwards with us, saying, "We can still keep an eye on their homes. The security networks are still in place, so it's not too much trouble to keep them running."

"As are the Jotun defenses," Loki added, as Natasha and Tony warily joined us. Walking away from Blake and putting the past behind us. To me, it was already forgotten; like a bad joke you just roll your eyes at, pretend to laugh, and wave away a few minutes later.

Natasha noted, "We can have S.H.I.E.L.D. clean this place up. There were a number here that I know for a fact were wanted."

"So we've made our move," I said. "Now we just have to wait for Murmur to make his."

There was a silent consensus across the group, and we left the building together. Tony, Natasha, and Loki were soon ahead of Clint and I, and we tagged along behind, me with a light step and Clint with a heavier, more contemplative one.

His hand gently brushed across my arm, and I looked to the spy. It was an indication to slow, to stop. I did so, and Clint said aloud, for the others' benefit, "Can I talk to you for a moment, Natalie?"

There was a coldness in the agent's eyes. My eyebrows furrowed, but I shrugged. "Sure."

We walked along with the others down the street, taking the back roads and alleys so as not to be seen with the Iron Man and the (Supposedly Dead) Former King. But then there was a corner, and Clint and I halted, letting the others pass, waiting for a moment while they went out of sight and hearing distance.

I didn't see the blow coming until Clint's arm was pressed up against my shoulders and throat, holding me against the wall and trapping me there. I gasped, but immediately fell into defensive. My hand went for the weapons in my belt; but they had been taken on my 'capture' by Blake and Murmur's other men.

By the time I realized that, I was just straining against Clint's arm, remembering only then who he was, and that I should not try to kill him. This-barely- kept me from flaring my nano-shield, kept me in line.

"What the hell, Bird Brain?!" I half-shouted, half-hissed, struggling against his hold.

"That's exactly what I was going to ask you!" he spat, holding me there, his elbow digging into one shoulder as his hand caught a fistful of the collar of my shirt. The stone and concrete wall behind me dug painfully into the fresh marks on my back, but I forced my skin to become numb, forced myself to ignore it.

"What? _Why?"_

"Why do you _think?_ " He snarled, gesturing wildly with the other hand towards the gash on my face, to the would-be-bruises on my still-throbbing jaw. "I _knew_ it, I _knew_ that you were like this, knew you wouldn't care about doing this to _yourself,_ but I can't believe- I just _can't believe-_ that you would do this to _him!_ That you would make _**Loki**_ _go through that!_ "

I squirmed beneath his grip, not wanting to unleash myself, not wanting to hurt him.

"I thought that would stop you!" Clint carried on. "I thought you wouldn't do this to yourself for _his_ sake, but then you just… just _waltz_ right in there and let them _torture you-"_

"That was a valid strategy!" I shouted back in his face defiantly. "You saw what it was like, you would have done the same if you thought it would get what you _wanted!_ "

" _I_ would!" He shouted, pulling back for just a second, so that he could slam me against the wall again, so that he could readjust his grip. " _Natasha_ would! Any agent of _S.H.I.E.L.D._ would!"

"So what the hell is your _problem,_ then?!"

"My problem is that you're _better_ than that!" He snarled. "You weren't up for this, you're just getting over Fraye, and now you go and pull _this_ bull? You let yourself get _tortured?_ You torture _someone else?!"_

"We got what we wanted, didn't we?"

"NOT AT THIS COST!" Clint shook me again, and again pressed me harder into the wall. The new gashes were outright screaming. It was getting harder and harder not to deck him, not to bring him down, but I couldn't think of how to do so without seriously injuring him. "Look at yourself, Natalie! Look at what you're letting yourself _become!_ "

" _And what the hell do_ _ **you**_ _know about it?!_ " I screeched. "I'm nothing but what _she made me!_ Nothing but what I'm _supposed to be,_ what I've _always been inside!_ "

" _NO!_ " Clint shouted, pulling me back off the wall one last time, the hardest blow of all. It sent tremors through me. "No, you're _not,_ and you _know it!_ This isn't you, this isn't what you _want!_ "

"How do _you_ know what _I want?"_ I snarled at him, spittle flying from my lips.

"Because I still have my _hands,"_ he hissed, looking at the fingers which still gripped my shirt collar. "Not to mention my _head._ Which means that either you haven't told Loki about this little 'conversation' yet, or he agrees with _me!_ And he knows you a hell of a lot better than either of us do! So either way, I know that _one of you agrees with me!_ One of you knows I'm right! _Knows_ thatthis isn't _you!"_

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes widened. My mind was open to this encounter. This 'fight' was completely visible. Loki was watching this. Loki was seeing it all.

And he wasn't trying in the slightest to stop it.

His hands were clenched as he walked on, away from me and away from Clint, his steps stoic and determined. Resolve washed over him, again and again, a repeating mantra that forced his footsteps forwards. He did not turn back. He did not help. He did not say a word in my defense.

I felt my heart skip a few times, before vanishing completely. My mouth went dry. Clint seemed oblivious to this. He was shaking me again, unaware that he was rattling around all of the bones and sanity inside of me that had fractured into pieces, unaware that he was sending tremors through my very core.

"Now, we've all smiled and laughed and acted like everything was just _fine,"_ Clint snapped. "Acted like it's all been sunshine and daisies, letting you get over it, letting you take your time. But it has been _two months_ since Fraye died. _Two months._ Now it's time for you to _get over_ your _pity-fest._ _ **Get over**_ your pointless _self-flagellation_ and idiotic _blame and guilt._ You did what you did and the past is the past. Now get your _shit_ together." He shoved a little harder, though there was no give against the concrete wall. "Or we'll get it together _for you."_

He released me then. My eyes narrowed, my hands clenching. Anger boiled inside of me. What the hell did _he_ know? What the hell did _Loki_ know? This _wasn't_ a _big deal._ This was… _nothing!_ This was some idiot rookie and oh, I gave him a scratch on the face: _so what?_ He threatened my family! My friends! I'd done what _needed_ to be done!

Clint strode off, back to rejoin the others, and after a moment, I followed. I fumed as I walked, my face and the back of my neck hot as I stalked towards them. I overtook them all in a minute, hands clenched in fists and anger boiling. I didn't even say a word to Loki; but I let my hostility emanate in waves towards him. I could understand _Clint_ being upset about this, but _Loki?_ Loki _knew_ better.

I stuffed back the betrayed feeling in my chest all the way back to the Tower. I kept it buried even as I crossed through the portal and into Jotunheim.

* * *

I brooded, glaring at the icy wall of the cave. It was one of my favorite 'thinking' places on Jotunheim; this quiet little niche, a short distance from the palace. An underground cave with the remnants of a frozen waterfall coating the entire wall of one side, the sunlight streaming through the ice in beautiful rainbow patterns. It was here that I went when I needed peace and quiet, here that I fled to when I had the mind to flee anywhere.

I heard Loki's footsteps from a long way off. That was another nice thing about this place; the echoes ensured that you could hear an intruder long before they heard you. I curled in a little tighter on myself, feeling kind of like a brat as I pouted, but at the same time not caring. I was still angry. Still furious.

"I had everything _handled,"_ I sneered the instant I knew that Loki was within a foot of me. Adjusting myself a little so that I was a little better seated on the folded cloak beneath me, and not freezing my butt off on the ice, I turned away from the Trickster completely.

"Natalie," he said quietly.

"I _had_ him. I had _everything_ under control."

"Natalie."

"I mean, look at me! I'm _fine!"_ I spat the words out, no more blood mixed with the saliva despite the puffiness of my lips. "Everything was just… just _fine!_ "

"Nata-"

" _ **Fine!"**_

He took a step back, thrown a little by the severity in my tone. The shout echoed around the cave, making it reverberate and distort as it came back to me a thousand times over. It sounded… almost frightening.

I curled a little closer in on myself. My eyes hurt, almost like I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I didn't have the means to do so, didn't have the tears or the sobs.

The cave seemed to make even the silence echo, make it resound off the walls and multiply thousand-fold before returning to my ears. Behind me, Loki swallowed. With slow, gentle movements, he knelt beside me, behind me.

Each move of his hands was delicate, gentle, and slow. Deep blue fingers, long and thin, trembled just slightly as they reached forwards. Only his fingerprints brushed against the skin, below and beside the long gashes that Blake had cut into my back. I tried to keep stiff, to keep my hate inside of me, to keep it trapped between my clenched teeth and hands.

But Loki trailed his fingertips up my back at a snail's pace, gradually bringing his hand up to my face. Though he could not see it directly, he knew where the cut was, and he avoided it deftly, his fingers brushing only on its edge. Against my better judgment, and my desire to hold onto my hate, I felt myself relaxing, and I found myself slowly turning around to face him. His hand cupped my jaw, thumb running along the bruising. His face was so… _pained._

"Then why won't you let me in?" he asked quietly, his fingers brushing up against my forehead and tapping there just once to emphasize his point. "Why won't you show me for yourself?"

I blinked. Twice. My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt an almost… _childlike_ confusion. He saw everything. He was _Loki,_ he was half of my mind, he saw everything that I thought and everything I felt and I saw everything he thought and felt and why would he… why would he even ask that and…

 _And why were there walls between us?_

I noticed them now, large and unyielding. Towering black flames that cut us in two, that separated us absolutely. I looked down; and realized that they were my walls. Realized that I had put them up. That they had been up since the night before.

Since I had learned of Tiff and her brother…

I looked to Loki with wide eyes that still hurt and stung with no relief of tears. And suddenly, everywhere began to ache. My entire body just… _hurt._ _ **Screamed.**_ I felt battered and bruised, sore and sickly. I had cut him off, and now I was feeling the effects that I had forced myself to be blind to.

Slowly, carefully… I relaxed the walls. I banished them. I released them, turned them to dust… I didn't know why. Maybe because I wanted him to see? Wanted to prove to him that I was fine? Prove that this had been no big deal? That Blake was a rookie and an idiot, that none of it meant _anything?_

Maybe that's what I wanted to show him. But what happened instead was the flooding of my mind; as _he_ showed _me._

He showed me the look in my eyes as I had readied to let myself be captured.

He showed me every blow that Blake dealt. Every cut and every strike. He showed me his own fury at the man, and the desperation in my eyes, the silent scream behind them with each and every strike, a silent scream that I hadn't even been aware of.

He showed me the following 'battle'. The slaughter. As three men fell dead in a room of seven, as I knocked the others unconscious and dragged Blake to the chair.

He showed me the empty look in my eyes as I chained Blake down. The deadness of my features as I pressed the knife to his cheek. The sick little smile on my face.

He showed me just how exactly I looked like Fraye as I dragged the blade with slow, careful precision down Blake's face, possibly scarring him for life.

My breath hitched and wouldn't budge, jamming itself in my throat as I tried to swallow with a dry mouth. Loki's red eyes were watching me, monitoring me, studying me, and as they did so I looked back into them, looked back in horror. Only then did it hit me. Only then did I see it. Only then did I realize.

 _I… I was just_ _ **tortured**_ _again._

 _I just tortured someone_ _ **else.**_

 _I just_ _ **killed**_ _a man._

Loki's arms wrapped around me. He didn't even need to ask, didn't even wait for me to collapse against him, as I would have if he had hesitated a second longer. My heart was twisting and wrenching about, tying itself in a knot and jamming itself in my throat. My soul was screaming. I closed my eyes tightly- _why couldn't I cry?-_ and pressed my face into Loki, trying to regain my breath, trying desperately to gulp down air through the dry sobs that wracked my chest. I gave a little sound, a pleading note, like a person would when they were crying… but my eyes were still dry. Too dry, prickling and stinging.

I'd done all of these things, all of these terrible things… and I'd made Loki witness them. It hurt that I'd been tortured- those marks on my back and jaw and cheek all _hurt,_ no matter how I tried to numb the pain- but Loki… Loki had _seen_ that. Had _seen_ the hardened monster I'd become, the hardened monster that I'd _let_ myself become, because of the decision that _he_ had made…

I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, as tightly as I could manage, still sobbing without tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Loki, I'm so sorry…"

"Shh…" He shushed me, a long and slow sound. It hissed out of his teeth as he brushed his cheek against mine, against the uninjured side of my face, holding me closer and burying his face into my neck and shoulder. I tried to cry, I did, because maybe I'd be more human if I could form tears, but they wouldn't come no matter how I called them.

We stayed like that for a long time; I don't know how long. Long enough for me to let everything shatter. To let all of these walls of hatred and anger, to let the monster I'd been hiding behind, to let everything break and crumble, to let it all fall to dust. Long enough to let my defenses strip away, to strip off my hard shell piece by armor-thick piece, until it faded away into gossamer translucency and showed me for the wreck I was. Hiding behind something stronger, more dangerous, hiding behind something crueler and more bloodthirsty then I really was… that was not strength. That was my core belief; that to show weakness was true strength and to show strength alone was true weakness. And I stayed there long enough to remember that, long enough to break down everything.

Long enough to realize just how much I would need to rebuild.

By the time I sat up again, still dry-eyed but somehow feeling so much better, Loki was almost- _almost-_ smiling at me. He quirked a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Better?" he asked sardonically, because he knew that was what I needed, and because he could only do nice things for you if he could also remind you at the same time of what an irritating little shit he was. I ran my fingers under my eyes, 'drying' them reflexively, and nodded.

"Yeah," I croaked.

He continued with the sarcastic little almost-smirk for a moment… and then his face softened. He stood, extricating himself from me carefully, then reached out a hand to help me to my feet. I took it, and allowed him to pull me upright, before leaning into his side and walking back to the palace with him helping me onwards.

When we finally arrived, we headed for our room. Loki gently dressed the injuries, cleaning them off with a wet cloth, numbing them with sparklets of magic and covering them with bandages. Once finished, he knelt in front of me as I sat, so that we were at eye level. Gently, he took both of my hands-which were in my lap- and held them there. His eyes were very stern and serious as he ordered, "Swear to me. Swear that you will never do that to yourself again. That you will never do that to me again."

It was the easiest of things to reply, "I swear." I took his hand and placed it on the uninjured side of my face. "Never again."

* * *

"Well?"

Murmur turned, smiling. "We got it."

Fenrir gave him a hard look. "I should hope so," he said, his words like stone.

Murmur turned to the screens, gesturing to them, where a thousand versions of Loki's and my battle with Murmur's men showed from a number of different angles and camera speeds. The bubble showed as nothing more than a pale blue shape, a blob on the screen that grew and expanded and contorted. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Murmur asked in an awed whisper. "The pinnacle of science, all running amok in the bloodstream of one woman." His fingertips hovered over the screen. "It's… magnificent."

Fenrir's eyes narrowed. "And it's impenetrable?"

"I wouldn't say that," Murmur replied, pointing to one side of the screen, where a hole in said shielding stretched and warped with each movement. But it remained a hole nonetheless. "There is… a gap. It seems to move, but otherwise, yes. It is impenetrable." He whistled. "The Hulk didn't even put a dent in it. I don't know about you, but to me that says something."

Fenrir snorted. "Yes, you've sung the praises of this scientific feat quite often enough, Murmur." He leaned over the other's chair, gripping its back as he hissed into Murmur's ear, "Now tell me its weaknesses."

"Other than that gap? There _isn't_ one." Murmur shook his head. "She took out a group of seven in seconds. And Loki… well, he's hardly incompetent." He gestured to the former King on the screen. Fenrir's eyes narrowed.

"They're very well trained," Murmur went on.

"Of course," Fenrir interrupted. "Loki was an Asgardian. He has learned combat since he was a child."

"No, they're well trained with _each other,_ " Murmur corrected. Leaning forwards, he added, "Here, listen to this." He flicked a few buttons, turned up a speaker, and pulled up a specific recording. Sitting back, he gestured to it, and Fenrir leaned forwards, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You?" The on-screen Loki and I said as one. "You can do nothing. Nothing but die."

"Those two went through a lot of trouble just to freak them out," Murmur said. "They had to have practiced that repeatedly, had some sort of signal, started at the same exact _second._ Given what she did to Blake afterwards, it worked, but…" he frowned. "It just seems so… difficult."

Fenrir turned to him, his eyes sparking. Recognition was beginning to light his face, but he was quelling it. Too soon. Too soon to be certain.

"Well… I had the computer analyze it, ran it through some sound-recognition software…" At Fenrir's empty look, he rolled his eyes and corrected, "Long story short, they started literally at _exactly the same time._ Not even a nanosecond's difference. And, regardless of the differences of their voices, they said it with _exactly the same pitch._ There was no… no _variance,_ no difference between them. It's… remarkable."

Fenrir smirked. And then he chuckled. And then he downright laughed.

"You call it remarkable," he said, looming closer to the screens. "I call it _telepathy._ "

He tapped his clawed nail against the screen just lightly, clinking it against the glass. "Well, well, Loki Laufeyson," he said in a quiet voice. Laughing again, shaking his head, he muttered, "I have you now, you son of a bitch."

He turned away. "Six vials?"

"At least," Murmur agreed.

"You'll have it," Fenrir promised. "Soon."

"I shall hold you to that," Murmur answered, as Fenrir ghosted from the room.

* * *

"Honestly, it feels good to talk about it," Tiff admitted, holding her books a little closer to herself, adjusting them in her arms as we walked side by side across the college campus.

"No arguments here," I agreed, rubbing my gloved arm reflexively. Though I had debated with myself whether I should trust myself at school or not, I had eventually decided to go; partly for Tiff's sake. We'd had a pretty mind-blowing conversation; and for me to vanish off the face of the Earth following that? Not great.

"But… I'm not really good at… _talking about it_ talking about it, you know?" Tiff tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean…" her voice lowered. "I never told anyone about that before, Natalie. How could I _trust_ someone with that?"

I looked to her. "I'll never tell," I swore, though I already had. But that didn't count. It wasn't my fault that Loki knew everything that I did. And besides, _he_ was hardly going to judge her for it.

She gave me a sad, tired smile. "I know you won't," she replied, before turning away again and sighing. "And I won't say a word about the scars, or the girl who…" She lowered her voice. "Tortured you."

"Well…" I shuffled a little. "I mean… you and Benny… he's your boyfriend."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah? And?"

"And he already knows."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding." When I shook my head no, she almost laughed. Almost. "Boy's better at keeping secrets then I thought."

"He's gotten better," I admitted, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "So… I don't mind if… you know, he knows that you know or whatever." I looked at the concrete. "But I won't say anything to anyone about your brother. Or the bastards that killed him."

"Thanks, Natalia," She murmured. "That… means a lot to me."

"Well, you're my friend, aren't you?" I asked, nudging her with my shoulder. "That's what friends do."

She grinned. "'Friends help you move, real friends help you move bodies,'" She quoted.

"Exactly. And I'm handy with a shovel."

Her laugh was very nearly a giggle. Happier then she had been in a while, but also somewhat… nervous and conspiratorial. She had confessed to a murder, after all. We fell silent.

"So, other than the disaster that was supposed to be our relaxing Girl's Night Out, how was your weekend?" She asked after a while, switching subjects. I knew that she would not have attempted to do so if she did not _need_ to do so, and in turn, I went along with it.

"Disastrous," I answered truthfully. "Got into a fight with a few friends of mine… Oog. Let's just say that I need to apologize. Like right now."

She chuckled. "Been there," she admitted. We reached our intersection; the place where we parted ways for our separate classes, and she waved over her shoulder. "I'll…" She hesitated, then, with forced confidence, "I'll see you later, Natalie."

"See you later, Tiff," I promised.

And the two of us parted.

The rest of the day was oddly uneventful. It never ceased to amaze me, how life did that. Some days (or weeks or months or years) were packed with drama and craziness, while the next second could become completely dull and boring. Usually the boring times came right smack dab in the middle of the crises, so that you were forced to deal with the weird conflict of emotion. Like waiting for eight hours in a hospital room for a loved one who might not make it. The first few hours are terrifying; but no one can keep up that terror forever, and after a while, you start to become bored out of your wits; with, of course, moments of pure fear spiking through you every time you remember just what, exactly, is going on.

And today, well… today was one of those boring times, with moments of anxiety as I remembered the looming threat of having to explain my actions to the Avengers. I supposed that I should be grateful that it had only been the spies and Stark there at the time, to see my 'temporary insanity'. At least the more… 'innocent' ones weren't there: Thor or Banner or Steve. Though, granted, Steve must've seen some shit from his fellow soldiers back in the war, but Thor… Thor liked to remain blind to my more monstrous side, as he had remained blind to Loki's for many hundreds of years. And Bruce wasn't exactly 'naïve', but… I didn't like _him_ seeing that side of me, either. I didn't much like _Tony_ seeing it, either, for that matter. The spies, at least, had understood the attraction; Tony wouldn't.

I _really_ had to apologize.

I went through the rest of the day with these thoughts hanging over my head, and finally, I got on the Frost-Cycle and started heading to the Tower, tightening the straps of my backpack before I went. My mind was buzzing, trying to figure out what I would say to them. 'Sorry I freaked out and tortured a dude, won't happen again?' 'I'm really not this insane, I promise?'

I sighed, fogging up the visor of my helmet. It _wouldn't_ happen again, so far as I could help it. I wasn't going to let myself go that far ever again. I'd made that promise to Loki, and I'd made it to myself.

But I couldn't ask the Avengers to believe the same. Not right away.

The garage doors opened for me, as they always did, and I parked the Frost-Cycle in the nearest empty space. Well, at the very least, I could thank Clint for snapping me out of it. Or for making that attempt. Seeing through me and my bullshit.

I was still piecing things together in my mind when JARVIS informed me of the room that a majority of the Avengers were residing in. I headed there, preparing to face the music.

I wasn't prepared for what was _actually_ there, though.

All eyes turned to me as I entered. I was surprised to see all of the currently Tower-bound Avengers inside of the room at once. They very rarely did that; especially these days, when there were no longer any meetings to go to. Well, not a _lot_ of meetings, anyway.

I did a swift headcount, expecting the typical four: Banner, Stark, Clint and Natasha. But there was an extra, blonde head in the room, and I blinked, searching faces instead, trying to identify the newcomer's features.

My eyes widened. "Steve?"

Captain America looked up at me. A worn, haggard smile managed to make its way onto his face. He looked tired and he was covered in dirt; his blonde hair was matted, out of its usual style, but he looked uninjured. Healthy. His hands were clasped around a very large mug filled with what I suspected was hot chocolate, and he was clinging to it as though there were no tomorrow. His hands shook a little with the strain of his muscles, and I knew that if he didn't let it go soon, it would break. "Hello, Natalie."

For a brief second, I was blind to the weariness on his face and in his eyes. I was too happy to see him to pay any attention to that. "By _realms,_ STEVEY!" I launched myself at him, and he stood to accommodate the bone-crushing hug I gave him, smiling as he did so. "You're back!" I all but squeaked. Screw apologizing to everyone for torturing a dude; _Steve_ was home!

He put up with my hug for a few moments, before gently prying me off of him. I obliged, pulling back so that I could see him better. "You look like shi… You look _awful,_ Soldier Boy. What happened? Everything go okay? All missions successful? Do you have to go back? Or can you stay here?"

He waited patiently for my rapid-fire questions to finish, sinking back into his chair. I sat across from him, not paying attention to the other Avengers, who were watching me bemusedly. Clint moved aside obligingly so that I could sit directly across from the Captain.

Once my interrogation had stopped long enough for me to take a breath, Steve paused to consider, then answered, "Everything is fine, everything went according to plan, I don't have to go back, and Stark has invited me to stay here, yes."

"He _has?"_ I demanded, looking to Tony. The Cap and the Iron Man didn't always tend to get along so well.

"Just until he gets back on his feet," Tony amended swiftly.

Steve nodded once in agreement, took a quick sip of hot chocolate, then set his mug back on the coffee table in front of us. He looked exhausted. "It was just a lot of… 'busy work'," he informed me. "Nothing too dangerous, just…"

I took in his dirtied clothes and the scuff marks on his skin. "A lot to do," I guessed.

He nodded again, then stood, taking his hot chocolate with him. "Truth be told, I was just waiting until you got back before I hit the hay. The others told me you were coming back to Earth every day for college, and I wanted to say hello before you left. Let you know I was here."

I flinched. Had Steve and I really been so out of contact for so long that he didn't even know that I was going to _college?_ I bit my lip to contain the frustrated curse. Not the time. I'd chew him out for not talking to me for all these weeks later.

He ruffled my hair as he passed. "It's good to see you again, Natalie," he said.

My heart missed a beat. Because even as he smiled, waving over his shoulder, even as his tone conveyed the sincerity of those words… I heard the lie in them.

I had to clench my teeth to keep from biting out a sour response as he walked away, a sour response that was brought on by the bitter, stinging rejection that was currently eating away at the back of my ribs. Steve walked out of the room, and I saw his retreating back…

And I forced myself to be rational. It wasn't that he wasn't glad to see me, I knew. He just knew that 'seeing me again' meant that we were one step closer to having the conversation that we all knew we'd have to have.

As though it was _my_ fault that my boyfriend had once gone on a murderous rampage. Okay, more than once. Still not my fault.

The other Avengers were watching me as my eyes tracked Steve out of the room. They made polite small talk with each other on the things that Steve had said before I'd gotten here, until I could pull myself together and force myself to get into the conversation with them.

It ended with a general consensus of 'it's good to see Steve again after all this time', with none of us bringing up the fact that Rogers had deigned to disapprove of my choice of groom. That was fine. A problem for another day.

We were all quiet for a while following this, and I took advantage of it, gently nudging my own topic of conversation into the center of attention. "Hey, guys?"

Everyone looked to me. I tugged on my collar. "I'm… really sorry, about the other day. With… With Blake and all. I kinda…" I looked down. "Kinda lost myself for a second there. But I'm back now. It won't happen again."

They were quiet. I waited with bated breath, looking around at them all.

After a long moment, Natasha nodded. "Of course, Natalie."

"S'only natural," Clint agreed, a mere half-second after his partner (and midnight conversationalist). "Just glad to have you back to normal." The darkening of his eyes suggested that it had better _stay_ that way. I was determined not to let those shadowed eyes down.

Tony took a very deep breath, then sighed it out heavily. Like most everything that the man did, the gesture was loud, obnoxious, and meant to draw as much attention as possible. "You have no idea how badly it scares me that you actually knew his name, Nat."

My eyebrows shot up. But then he waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're going through a rough patch. Just…" His eyebrows furrowed. "Don't do it again, okay? It's bad enough that I gotta worry about waking up to see _these two-_ " he gestured to the spies, "Standing over my bed with a knife. I don't need to worry about you doing that too, Bubbletastica."

"I won't," I promised, as I had promised before. "Never again."

He nodded curtly. I nodded back.

And life went on.

* * *

"I need, like, two hours," I said, standing in the doorway, holding it between myself and my husband-to-be. "Two hours, completely alone, and _no peeking."_

"Two?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Leaning against the doorframe, he noted, "This truly concerns you that much?"

I sighed heavily, rubbing my eyes. "It's a big, fancy-pants formal event. My _first_ fancy-pants formal event as your fiancée, and thus my first as anyone _important._ Your _parents_ will be there. Half of _Asgard_ will be there. A lot of _very important people_ from a lot of _very important places_ _ **will be there.**_ So, yes, this _does_ concern me that much. For once in my life, I have to look _presentable._ "

It was even worse, that this had to happen now, so soon after my little… _issue_ with Blake. Right when I just wanted nothing more than to just spend a whole day in my PJs and not give a crap about what anyone thought, when I wanted to get a little more in touch with my old, not-so-politically-oriented, not-so-numb-to-everything self. But I had responsibilities. I'd spend a PJ day afterwards.

But first: Politics. Oog.

Loki studied me for a long moment, assessing the situation, as he assessed everything. The great strategist never stopped calculating all variables. But finally, he nodded and retreated from the room, and from my mind. Walls went between us; walls that were easily broken, walls that meant nothing in terms of keeping secrets… but walls that we both were willing to live with for the sake of temporary privacy.

I closed the door after him and turned to the mirror. Taking a long look, I nodded to myself and said, "Well. Time to get to work."

The room had a bathroom attached to it; and so I started the next two hours by showering, washing my hair twice in the hopes of making it a little less flat and drab than it currently was. Once finished, I dressed simply, saving the dress on my bed for later, when I'd finished with a few of the more mundane things. I selected my jewelry and placed it on the bed with everything else before retreating to the bathroom and struggling to get my hair into a nice style. It blatantly refused, and I huffed for a while before returning to the attempt.

Finally, I had it in a simple up-do that curled on the sides (I was currently on Midgard, so I had access to my old curling iron, thankfully. Loki had returned to Jotunheim and I planned to go there as well once I'd finished getting ready). Little stray curls framed my face here and there in a satisfactorily pretty way, and I nodded at myself in the mirror.

Makeup was next, and it was a _pain._ I washed it off maybe three times before I was satisfied, but there were still butterflies in my stomach. Still, the purple lip gloss would look good with the purple dress… everything was coming together…

Well, it _was,_ until a flash of light started to dance in the corner of my eye. I froze, falling into defense immediately. My knife was on the counter beside me, and I slid it out of its sheath, tucking it against my arm as I walked forwards, so that it would be hidden from any oncoming attacker's view. My eyes narrowed into thin slits as I walked forwards, back into the bedroom, looking around for the intruder…

I blinked and lowered the blade. There was no one inside, it was true, but there was one difference to the room that explained the subtle shine of golden magic; on the bed, beside my purple dress, was a second one. More specifically, it was the orange dress that I'd looked at when shopping with Tiff; a clearly Midgardian number, at stark contrast with the Jotun-Asgardian style purple one beside it. To a person who was aware of it, it practically flaunted my Earth side, as opposed to burying it beneath whatever else I was trying to pretend to be. (I mean, clearly, I couldn't pass as a Jotun; but maybe, _maybe_ an Asgardian? Reaching a bit, but with a lot of makeup and hair styling and the right dress, just _maybe…_ )

I reached forwards, my eyes softening as I set the knife down on the counter beside the bed. There was a note on top of it, in Loki's simple but elegant handwriting: _A second option._

I smirked. The _only_ option, frankly, and we both knew it. But he was trying to be polite about it. Trying to say that he wouldn't be too hurt if I didn't accept, if I just went with the purple dress and stuck with my whole _blend-in_ option. I glanced to the purple one, to the jewelry that I'd selected for it. If I _did_ wear the orange, a lot of that would have to be changed; the colors contrasted too badly.

I lifted the orange dress off the bed and sat down where it was, holding it in my hands and looking at it for a long time. Loki had said that it looked good on me, even if I hadn't believed him. But it showed so much of the scars, showed so much of the… damage. Another reason why Loki had left that note; so that I knew he wouldn't be upset if I chose not to wear it for _that_ reason. Because it showed off too many of the scars. I mean, granted, the purple one flaunted a few, and there was no disguising the name on my arm, as I hadn't planned on gloves or anything… But there were still those on my shoulder and ankle. They were healing, but they were still there.

I looked at the dress and smiled just slightly. _Yeah,_ I found a little voice saying in my head, _but Loki gave it to you._

He could be sweet, when he wanted to. I stood, taking the dress with me, only then noticing the small golden object that had fallen down from it when I had lifted it from the bed. I lifted it off the ground, placing it in my palm and studying it there.

"Wow," I whispered, genuinely awed. The metalwork was… extraordinary. It didn't seem to follow any specific planet's _'style',_ but rather, held its own. Studded with interspersed gems of diamond-white (not actual diamonds, I somehow knew but did not care) and an orangey-almost-topaz that didn't properly fit the description of any Earth gem, the ear cuff had an intricate lacing of metal that twined in on itself a few times.

I set the dress on the bed carefully and returned to the bathroom mirror, clasping the object to my ear. It was held in place by the piercing on my earlobe and by a small metal clasp for the top of the ear, running along its edge in an odd, but strangely beautiful way. I grinned a little bit. It would never have worked with the purple dress; a little extra motivation on Loki's part to get me to wear the other one. With how nervous I was, he knew that my more shallow, attracted-to-everything-shiny side would have gone into overdrive, and throwing this in front of me was just a little ultimatum: I wouldn't get to wear it if I didn't go along with what he wanted.

I rolled my eyes, still smiling, as I leaned forward a bit on the counter to study the ear cuff. Yep, that was Loki. A schemer and a Trickster in every respect; even in matters of love and relationships. With _every little thing_ he had to make sure it would go his way, had to be _certain_ that he would get what he wanted. That was just… _him._

I washed off my purple lip gloss and went instead with an orange-red; a color scheme that I had borrowed from Tiff, who pulled it off quite well. I did not pull it off quite so well, but I pulled it off nonetheless. Grateful that I could step into this new dress just as easily as I could the other one, so that I didn't have to pull it over my head and ruin everything, I pulled on the orange dress and looked at myself in the mirror. Well, half the reason I'd wanted to look extra special today was so that I could make a statement. The Midgardian style and the scars were sure going to make _some_ kind of a splash.

I pulled on a gold necklace and a ring. There was nothing to be helped about the silver ring on my other hand, or the silver band on my wrist; one was my engagement ring, the other my nano-controller. But at least silver and orange looked good together anyway, regardless of the gold theme of the rest of the outfit. Pulling on a pair of flat golden shoes and putting on a pack of fake plastic nails- filing them down a bit because I hated how long they were- I nodded to myself in the mirror and headed out, running a finger along the edge of the cuff on my ear. It was nerve-wracking, but I stood with all of the confidence I could muster as I headed back to Jotunheim. Tony was there to lock the portal after me, and he whistled as I passed.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Stark," I said, feeling my cheeks warm up. I was still nervous, and I knew he was just doing it to be nice, because I couldn't look too pretty with all of this showing… but I held my head up higher. If Loki thought so, then I could think so, too. I was determined to think of myself as beautiful and hold my head higher than any Asgardian, Giant, or whatever else was in that place.

I stepped through the portal. It still made me nauseous, but Tony's recalibrations were slowly making that better.

I found Loki a few minutes later, completely ready to go and sitting down, scanning through pages of parchment, his mind abuzz, trying to work out the problems of the throne. As I entered the room, however, his eyes lifted. He sat upright, then stood, taking me in as I took him in.

 _Wow,_ I thought to myself. _Full Jotun Kingly Regalia, and he still can't wear a shirt._ My eyebrow lifted. _Not that I'm complaining, but still._

There was a cloak around his shoulders, fur-lined on its edges, with a very nice silver clasp holding it in place. The clasp was designed in the pattern of shattered ice, shafts sticking about at unpredictable but very interesting angles. There was a crown on his head that matched the style; though mostly because it did not just _emulate_ ice, it _was_ ice. Simple, thin, broken shafts that ringed his head and shot upright at odd angles, all made of crystal-clear icicles that, due to his Jotun nature, were in absolutely no danger of melting no matter where he went while wearing it. His pants were dark black and in clear Jotun formality, and I smiled a little. Overall? He looked great.

His red eyes flicked up and down, scanning me intently. There was a sly little glint in them at the sight of the orange dress, and the piece of jewelry on my ear.

"I see you received my gifts," he said, with an irritatingly smug little smile on his face.

"I did," I said, one hand taking the skirt of the dress and giving it a little half-twirl with the flick of my wrist, the other hand's index finger running down the cuff on my ear. I gave him a little smile. "Thank you."

"They suit you."

I shrugged, feeling my face get even hotter, and started twisting my ring around my finger. "Sh-Shall we, then?" I asked, then silently cursed myself for the stutter. Holding myself a little higher, making my back a little straighter, I waited for him to hold his arm out to me before taking it carefully. He was smiling, a little roguishly, amused by my nerves, as usual. My humanity always did tend to _amuse_ him.

"We shall," He agreed with a courteous nod of the head. The two of us walked from the room, to meet with the rest of our group: a small number of mostly-important 'officials' from the courts. Avalon and Sigil, of course, would be in attendance; it would seem strange for us to leave behind the most powerful mages, and our foremost experts on magic while attending an event such as this, no matter how much we distrusted them. Steprin, the Captain of the King's Guard, would also be there; mostly to serve as our bodyguard (and it was intensely weird, having a bodyguard to begin with). Puck, being the King's Apprentice, was meant to follow the King pretty much everywhere, so he was tagging along as well. He seemed pretty well suited to Jotun finery, however, for he was standing very tall regardless of the looks his companions were giving him. There were a few others- people whose names I was having a difficulty storing in my head, and thus left it to Loki, storing them in his instead.

They greeted us with polite bows, to which we nodded our heads in return.

Avalon, Sigil, and Loki momentarily combined their magic to open the portal to Asgard. It was a well-known and well-traversed pathway into the realm, as we had been told to use; this was not an occasion for secrecy and hostilities, after all. It was a party, not a raid.

The word 'party' lifted my spirits a little as I stepped through the portal, a few steps further, and out on the other side. There was a reason for this, a reason I wanted to go instead of just a reason why I was _tolerating_ going. It was one of a bajillion festivities that were sure to come, all for the sake of celebrating one thing: the coronation of the new king of Asgard.

The guy deserved every last second of that celebration. Loki and I weren't the only ones who'd gone through crap during Fraye's attack, and we weren't the only ones who had pulled through and become stronger on the other side. So yeah, I was excited to see him, excited to congratulate him on his upcoming coronation. The guy deserved it.

I noticed Loki walking with a little more solemnity in his step and nudged him, a gesture imperceptible to anyone besides us. _Hey, you got there first._

He muffled a smile.

We were greeted at the Asgardian end of the portal by a group of Asgardian sentries, who led us to the center of the palace and into one of the many great halls. The entire place was gold, gold, gold, everywhere you looked, and it made me wish that I'd worn a little more silver. But there was no denying that it was beautiful, with all of its lavish finery. There was a large table in the center of one half of the room, where many were seated and eating, whilst the rest of the hall was occupied by those attending. They were standing around, milling about and talking, laughing, clapping each other on the back or clasping each other's hands, greeting each other with hearty welcomes and fond hellos that I knew, I just _knew,_ could easily turn into poisonous whispers the moment someone's back was turned. But this was the case with all politics: anything to get yourself to a higher station in life.

Still, not all of them were that bad. Thor certainly never had been, and Frigga was decent enough.

 _Oh, crap,_ I remembered; though, truthfully, it was about the third time I had 'remembered' the fact that evening, and each time I'd remembered it to the tune of a sickening, sinking feeling in my gut. _The future in-laws._

I reigned that in as the Asgardian sentries who had led us now announced us all by name. Like in a movie of the middle ages, where names and ranks are announced for each entering member of the ball. Only this wasn't the ball, we weren't back in time, and these guys were closer to Vikings than they were to knights.

A few eyes glanced to us at our names, and the conversation momentarily dimmed and hushed. But then it resumed its full swing, and most everyone turned away again, back to their own affairs. I trembled in my orange dress and flat gold shoes. This was going to be fantastic, I could just tell.

I scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. There were a quite a few, but not that many that were directly familiar to _me._ Only to Loki. There were one or two-mostly the guards- that I knew from the old days, when Loki was in prison and I would visit him at least twice a week, when I was playing psychiatrist to the Norse god of Mischief. When I was an entirely different person. I relaxed a little bit at the sight of them. Well, it wouldn't exactly be conventional, but if all else failed and I ended up bombing all of my conversations with everyone else, at least the guards and I were mostly on friendly terms. I wouldn't mind striking up a conversation with one of them; and in fact, I resolved myself to doing so at some point during the night. Just to get reacquainted with old comrades.

We received a much more formal reception as we moved forwards: people bowed as we passed, the crowds parting in a way that to me was, quite frankly, eerie. Being a New Yorker, I was a little more used to the hey-idiot-get-the-hell-out-of-my-way-before-I-make-you mentality from everyone who was around me.

Our group dispersed, for the most part, though Loki and I stayed together. We were searching out a certain face, a certain blonde head that was soon going to be wearing a crown…

"Brother!" A voice exclaimed heartily; not quite a shout, not an attempt to grab our attention. Just a happy voice from a happy person. "Natalie!"

Found him.

We turned. Thor excused himself from those he was talking to and embraced us both, one after the other, laughing out his words. "It is good to see you again!"

Loki found a little laugh slipping out of him-and all of his air- in a breathy stream as Thor crushed his ribs. "And you, brother," he said genuinely. Thor released him so that he could hug me instead. I was sure that proper protocol was for him to kiss my hand or some crap, but I'd graduated more to the 'fellow warrior' class in his eyes a long time ago; and besides, it had been way too damn long since the two of us had seen each other. He crushed my spine briefly, and I found myself grinning, a few of the butterflies escaping my stomach and coming out of my mouth in the form of a nervous giggle. He released me and looked back between the pair of us, beaming.

"We missed you, big guy," I said, smiling softly. "You're so… _busy_ all of the time."

"Aye," He agreed, a trace mournfully, with a sprinkled shade of wistfulness. "The demands of a kingdom." He nudged Loki as he said this, adding, "Aye, brother?"

Loki briefly allowed his exhausted exasperation with the weight of the crown to show through. "Aye," he agreed. Thor grinned.

I stepped back. "Well, that's my cue to leave," I said, clapping my hands together once and moving away. "I'll see you both later." Kissing Loki briefly on the cheek, I added, "But I'm sure you have a lot to discuss, so I'm just gonna go make myself scarce and see if my time with Fraye did anything to improve my mingling skills. Methinks not, but what the hell, I'm desperate."

Thor laughed once as Loki smiled gently at me. His hand remained on mine as I drifted off, and he warned, _be careful._

 _Always am,_ I answered, walking off. I didn't really want to leave, but I knew it was important that I do so anyway. Whether Thor knew it or not, Loki _did_ have something very crucial to discuss with him; a certain stolen relic that, once upon a time, had allowed Loki to discover his true nature and started this whole messy chain of events. A relic that he now desperately needed, as well as an alliance that he desperately hoped for.

I wasn't necessary in the equation of that particular conversation, so I removed myself.

It took me all of two minutes to realize that, Fraye or not, I had absolutely zero mingling skills. I mean, I could talk about battles and weapons and stuff, which everyone seemed willing enough to do, but that usually got me a crowd of guys who wanted to boast about their old wars, with the occasional girl interspersed who wanted to do the same. And me and crowds, well, they don't work out so well.

After about half an hour of trying to edge my voice into the conversation, I was about ready to crack and tell them all about the war story I had that would put all of these sissies to shame… But I bit my tongue and drank my non-alcoholic… whatever it was (to ask for something non-alcoholic, I soon realized, was a very odd request at a place like this, leaving me with very limited options). It was a war story worth telling, it was true… but even Asgardians might find an extensive, graphic explanation of torture to be a bit of a party-ruiner. So I kept quiet and I smiled and, after a while, I backed away, out of the conversation and out of the crowd. I tailed on its edges, trying to find a little bit of fresh air, and ended up lagging by the center of the room, between the table and the open space where everyone was congregated, hanging out by the wall in between the two.

I took a few deep breaths, keeping everything together. This was great. This was a great party. Thor was going to become King of Asgard and everyone was here to see it. Everyone was _not_ here to look at me, future Queen of Jotunheim or not.

I smoothed down my dress, downed the remnants of my nameless beverage in one gulp, and stayed by the wall, watching the comings and goings of everyone in the hallways. I kept my eyes as sharp, scanning the place… and swallowed through a very tight throat as I saw Frigga coming towards me.

 _Um… shit. Shitshitshit._

I glanced around, quickly and furtively, hoping to see someone else that she might be headed towards… yeah, nope. I was doomed. I put on my best smile and tried to ignore the sweat on the back of my neck. I liked Frigga, I really did, and we were on good terms the last time I spoke with her… but the last time I spoke with her I was _not_ engaged to her son. I knew that I thought a lot better of her then to think that she would be petty enough for that to matter… but then again, no one will ever be good enough for your kid, right?

"Natalie," She said warmly, a contented sigh of a word, reaching towards me with arms that were open. They wrapped around me, around my shoulders, embracing me in a hug that was all at once warm and kind and motherly and smelled vaguely like cinnamon and warm vanilla and… I dunno, something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It took half a heartbeat for me to get over my shock enough to wrap my arms around her in return.

"Queen Frigga," I said in turn, my eyes still wide. Was this real? Was this really happening? I mean, she was the Queen of an entire world here, she'd never _hugged_ me before… I mean, she'd held my hands and thanked me for helping Loki, but she'd never… I mean, this was a display of affection that was _so_ far away from what I'd expected, _so_ far away from what our ranks entailed…

Or was it?

I didn't even know anymore. My head started to hurt, trying to keep track of ranks and titles and positions… I gave up as Frigga pulled back, smiling a smile that just seemed so… motherly. She was seriously like the generic picture of a 'mom', maternal in every way.

And she was going to be my _mother-in-law…_

Suddenly, my worries about her all seemed to melt away into a pool of honey in my stomach. A warm feeling spread through me, comfortable and safe. How could I have worried about this? Frigga was a great person. She always was. She was so great that she'd reminded me just exactly how great and awesome she was with just one word, a hug, and a smile.

"It's so wonderful to see you again," She said, and I could hear the truth in her words, undoubted and undisputed.

"And you," I agreed, with just as much sincerity. "It's been a long time."

She nodded her consent. "And how are your parents? Well, I hope?"

The question surprised me. My parents had been in Asgard for quite a while during Fraye's attack, but I'd never thought that they might make friends in such high places. Well, when you live in the castle, you're bound to run into its Queen from time to time. "They're fine," I answered. "In fact, they've… they've never been better."

This was true. My father had no more lesions, which meant no more health problems, and no more Fraye screwing with his head, which meant no more arguments. They were just like every new (or newly reunited) couple would be: blissfully and wonderfully in love. In love enough to annoy the pants off of anyone within a hundred feet of them.

Kinda like Loki and I were, I was sure. The two of us had taken a long time to fall in love, but damn if we hadn't fallen hard.

Frigga smiled again, bringing me back to the conversation. "I'm very glad to hear it," She said. Despite her maternal air, she radiated this… _aura_ of power, held herself in such high command that, in the old days, I would've been very, very intimidated. As it was… she really felt like another equal. Like another person I could relate with, another person with power. I might not have been a queen yet, but I stood beside them, and soon enough… well, soon enough.

"And yourself?" She inquired of me. "How are you, Natalie?" There was genuine concern in her eyes. Her hands gently took mine, and one hand gently ran over the scars, making it very clear what she was referring to directly.

I smiled, trying to keep all weakness and exhaustion out of it. "I'm… taking it one day at a time," I answered, because I did not wish to lie and tell her that I was 'fine'. "It's been rough, and there have been a few sleepless nights… but I'm getting through it." I glanced to Loki in the crowd, still speaking with Thor. There was no small amount of smug triumph inside of me to see the two like that: the Jotun and the Asgardian, one with blue skin and one with pale, black hair and blonde, red eyes and pale blue… and still relating as brothers. "Truth be told," I said to the Asgardian Queen, "If it wasn't for Loki…" I shook my head. "I don't know how I'd do it." I smiled wryly as I looked back at her. "He's really been there for me."

Until I saw the look on Frigga's face, it did not occur to me that it was Loki who had caused this mess in the first place. I found myself strangely relieved about that. Maybe one day, we could entirely forget the blame on his shoulders after all.

"I'm very glad to hear it," she said, after a brief pause. We were quiet for a moment, coaxed into a contemplative silence.

And then she asked, "And how is he?"

Here, I realized, was the question she'd been wanting to ask. The question that had been on her lips but battled back from the moment that she had come forwards, come towards me, hugged me and embraced me as though we were old friends. Her son was what mattered. And I understood that. I understood it perfectly.

I looked back to Loki again as I considered how to answer that, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that she had turned her attention to the Jotun King as well. "He's… getting better." I answered after a moment. "And Jotunheim's definitely growing on him." I bit my lip, then added, "He… has a lot of guilt," I admitted, looking down. "A lot of regret. It's very hard for him to look past it. But… he's trying to make up for it. To make up for everything that he's done: to me, to the Earth, to his family." I looked to Loki and Thor and smiled a little. "As you can see," I added.

She smiled in turn and nodded once, slowly, deeply, regally. We were quiet for a long few moments, just watching the new Jotun King as he spoke in hushed whispers with the soon-to-be-Asgardian one.

"And his… Jotun family?" Frigga asked, very quietly.

I looked to her, startled. My eyes softened. Of course. As his adoptive mother, she must have always worried, always wondered… when Loki never had. Once he'd known about Laufey being his true father… well, nothing else mattered. He'd never cared about his monstrous bloodline, about the Jotun side of his heritage.

That didn't mean that _I_ hadn't looked it up, though. That didn't mean that _I_ hadn't been curious.

"He has none," I answered her, quietly. "His real mother died, many years ago. And, of course… Laufey…" My words trailed off. We all knew what had become of Loki's real father. I charged on quickly, marching through the words. "He had no siblings, no brothers and sisters. None tied to him by blood." I looked to her and, strangely, I found my hand reaching out to her. Found myself placing it on her arm, comforting and grateful all at once. "You are the only family he has. The only family he will ever have."

Her eyes stayed on me for a very long time. Watching and studying me. Not examining me, not placing me like a piece on the chessboard, like so many others did… but just… _watching._

And then she smiled, a sad and wistful little smile. And she reached forward, taking my hand again. Her fingers gently squeezed the engagement ring on mine. "Not anymore," she said, very quietly.

And then she turned and walked away, breezing into the crowd with warm smiles and honeyed words, leaving me silent in her wake. I looked down to the ring, and held it closer to myself, smiling a little. The idea of becoming a part of this family- of _Loki's_ family- made me feel a little better, now that I remembered. Now that Frigga had reminded me just how much I actually loved these people. Sure, I was still nervous about Odin being my father-in-law… but I loved Thor like a brother already, and Frigga was… pretty amazing. And of course, above everything else, I loved Loki.

This could work out, after all…

I stayed by myself for a while longer, but as the crowd swelled, so did their interest in me. As the Shadowslayer, and the soon-to-be Queen of Jotunheim, I was apparently a very hot commodity. Everyone wanted to know me, to know more about me. It was all at once flattering, unnerving, and a little bit frightening, to have so many eyes and so much attention on me; and for a while, I lost myself to the buzz of conversation, to the introductions of a thousand different people and the names that I had a difficulty keeping straight in my mind:

"Glaice Elltheron," an Asgardian man kissed my hand, his eyes alight with wonder. "I was at the Battle of Shadows. I saw what you did. Everything. It's… it's an honor to meet you at last, Lady Shadowslayer."

"It was a delight to hear of your engagement," A woman with a very nice headdress and a name I forgot within seconds of hearing it gushed. "I have heard some… unsettling rumors of the… _purity_ of bloodlines, but rest assured; the Shadowslayers shall always have the full support of me and my family."

That probably meant something, if I could remember who her family was and why they were important.

"I have never seen a mortal fight in such a manner," said a bookish-looking man who looked Asgardian, but wore a different clothing style and had a vaguely different air, hinting at the fact that he was probably something else entirely. "Indeed, I have never heard of such a thing. May I ask, these 'powers' that you hold; what do you attribute them to? If that is not a breech of your privacy, of course."

It killed me to answer properly, instead of saying 'a bum pizza delivery'. But I made myself do it nonetheless. I even managed to sound formal about it. I think that was the dress talking.

"It was a battle worth many ballads," A man who I was certain was a minstrel told me. "Many of which are already being composed; by myself as well. May I ask, what, precisely… happened?"

I noticed a few people falling silent as this question was inquired. A woman with kindly eyes and a long name that, yes, I had forgotten like an idiot, stepped forwards. "I have heard that… mortals view such things in a much different light. That humanity does not sing the praises of battle. That, rather, they find it… scornful." She looked to the others. "This is a celebration; we needn't hear of darker times for the moment."

As everyone looked disappointed or frustrated-and one man stepped forward to protest- I placed my hand on the woman's arm, just gently. "Thank you," I said quietly. "And… yes. War, to humanity, is devestation." I addressed everyone now, looking to all and meeting all eyes. "Fraye died because Fraye had to die. I killed her- _Loki_ and I killed her- because she had to be killed. For the sake of the realms." I looked down at my flat gold shoes. "For the sake of light the shadows must perish."

It took a while, but I ended up answering questions. Telling the story. Re-telling the story. A thousand times over, until I was sick of hearing it. But no one else appeared to be, and new ears arrived every time. Finally, however, my throat sore, I excused myself from telling the tale and let others tell it for me. I heard the whispers everywhere, felt the eyes on me.

This… was going to take some getting used to.

The entire hall seemed torn between love for me and hatred for me. Very few remained apathetic; everyone had an opinion on me. These people who had never met me, who only knew my name and a few deeds that I had done, who did not know my parents or my friends or my life… were judging me. They thought they knew best about _me_ and _my life._ I was 'good' or 'bad' because they _thought_ that I was 'good' or 'bad'.

 _Is this what it ends up as?_ I thought to myself, standing aside and drinking again. _Is this what all my deeds become? Is my life reduced to… celebrity gossip?_

I pushed the thoughts from my mind and sighed heavily, my feet and ankles beginning to feel sore. I would've sat down at the dining-table-portion of the room, but there were too many people, too many crowds. I was starting to get claustrophobic as it was.

I did a sweep in my head, checking on Loki, who had been torn away from Thor long ago by the same types of people who had been questioning/talking to/bugging me. And, surprise, surprise, he hadn't talked to Thor about the Casket, or about an alliance, or anything important.

I nudged him in that direction, a 'friendly reminder' before pulling away from his thoughts again. He'd figure out the best way to bring the subject up eventually.

I finished what had to be my third drink (still non-alcoholic; I _couldn't_ touch the stuff anymore, and no longer just because I didn't _want_ to) and placed the cup/goblet/thingy on the table, feeling… overwhelmed. I didn't let it show on my face, but the exhaustion was starting to get to me a little bit. I started to peruse the halls, walking around the walls slowly, greeting the guards that I knew and exchanging a few words here and there. That wasn't so difficult; I didn't have to worry about messing things up and not acting so… 'political' around them. They were more used to me. And most of them had seen me on my bad days; AKA the days that I went to Asgard in a tank top and jean shorts. People who'd seen me at my worst.

I'd almost made it around the entirety of the great hall when I saw it. The crack in the wall, the doorway that led into darkness. Or rather, the doorway that _should_ have led into darkness; that _should_ have been an empty arch. I knew the place; it led into a hallway outside of this room, a hallway with three walls and a whole ton of pillars on the other side, leaving that space open, a veritable balcony of a walkway. The pillars held it up but left so much space to see the skies above and the cities below.

I knew this, not because I had been there before; but because my other half had. It was a lead to the rest of the palace, if you knew your way around. But if you were one of the many, many politicians in this place who were looking for a moment of privacy with another… well, that was one of the few places you could go.

 _If it wasn't already occupied,_ I thought to myself, grinning slyly as a small, blonde head ducked behind the archway. I snickered to myself, walking a few steps to the side of the arch, breezing past it, hearing the muffled giggles of the watching kids who thought that they were getting away with something.

I should've known that they'd be here, I realized as I silently slid in between the guards, leaning against the wall as I had been all evening, until their attention turned elsewhere. This was a party, and these were the children of Asgardian royalty or high families; children like Loki and Thor used to be. And whenever there was a celebration that the kids were banned from, where would those kids be? Right in the middle of it, that's where.

I waited until I was certain that all eyes were off of me. And then I focused. I wasn't even close to using magic yet, wasn't even anywhere near it and I doubted I ever would; but the nanos in my system were powered by magic; and, if I was correct…

Yep. I felt the wall behind me give as my skin shimmered very softly. I dimmed it quickly, before I could get any more attention on myself, and looked around at everyone. No eyes on me; I slipped into the wall, into the darkness behind it, only a few paces away from the archway that the children had been standing inside. I knew that the wall concealed me, that it was completely hidden from all eyes. It was one of Loki's and Thor's little secrets from when _they_ were kids; a little passageway that Loki had created, that led into the other hallway. Activated by any magic, and thus difficult to hide, and also not leading to anywhere particularly dangerous, or anywhere that an invader could get to without first getting past all other Asgardian security, Loki hadn't ever thought it a big enough security breech to confess it to his father when he'd grown up. Frankly, he was certain that Odin already knew about it. But most of the other party guests wouldn't.

I crept along it, having to duck a little; it was, after all, built for kids, not adults. Made by kids, for kids. I could still see the great hall, even if no one inside could see me; but then, that had been its original purpose. I tiptoed along, halting before I reached the other, more visible hallway where the Asgardian children were hiding, listening to them as they snickered. Playing chicken by peering inside and ducking away quickly before they were caught. It was amazing what adults would miss.

Most adults.

I had a very hard time keeping the grin off of my face as I exited the secret hallway and entered the more well-known one. I ended up standing behind the children-who were busy keeping an eye on the party inside, save for the one lookout, who jumped six feet in the air at the sight of me. I cleared my throat very pointedly and put a lot of authority in my voice as I asked, "And what is it that you think _you_ are doing?"

The Asgardian children jumped ten feet into the air, whirling around. One or two let out a squeak of fright. Every last one of them had the 'busted' look on their faces, caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Or like Jekyll, after he did something stupid; like dig through the trash or chase Hyde around the house until something broke. Magnified a hundred times on all of their innocent little faces, it was absolutely hilarious, and I had an even _harder_ time keeping my face straight as I lifted a dignified eyebrow. One of them punched the lookout in the arm, hissing something that sounded a lot like 'nice going, idiot', though that was a little too _human_ for these guys. The lookout seemed very injured and rubbed his arm a few times.

"Well?" I asked again. "What do you think that you are doing?"

Heads hung in shame and gloomy, glum looks went on faces. A few tried to look me in the eye defiantly, though they were all shaking pretty badly. I folded my arms and tapped my foot.

"We didn't mean anything…" one of them whispered, rubbing the back of his neck and studying his shoes. Gah, that little kid pout was enough to make my heart melt.

One of them caught sight of the scars on my arms and went very, very pale. Must've heard something about me. She swallowed. "We were just… I'm sorry, Lady Shadowslayer, we just wanted to see the party!" Her eyes got glassy, welling up with tears. Great, now I was making little kids cry.

The others all seemed to go even paler or shakier at the mention of my name. How much of a boogeyman had the 'Shadowslayers' become, since the fall of Fraye and the beginning of Loki's second reign? Surely their parents weren't letting them trust that the Shadowslayers were entirely the 'good guys' yet. Or, at least, some of them. I saw one kid look really red in the face, also near the edge of tears. Maybe some of them _had_ called us the good guys, the heroes. Maybe the Shadowslayers were some of these kids' _personal_ heroes. Maybe they were terrified of meeting and disappointing that hero.

I leaned to the side, putting a hand on my hip. "Well you did a pretty botch job of it." I said, grinning from ear to ear. "Sheesh, kiddos, didn't you parents ever teach you _anything_ about _stealth?"_

A few looked surprised. Most didn't get it, still thinking that they were in the trouble of their lives. I winked at them. "C'mere," I said, "I've got something to show you."

One by one, glum, curious, or frightened, they all obeyed. I shushed them all with a finger to my lips and beckoned for them to follow as I cut into the secret path and passageway. Slowly, I led them along, until I reached the glowing end of the tunnel.

"Anyone here good with magic?" I asked, as the 'tunnel', absent of anyone for a long time, now had no doorway between the hall and the pathway. A kid stepped forwards, hand alight, her fingers shaking. I nodded my head at the square patch of light that was all that was left of the doorway.

"Anything works," I told her. She pressed her fingertips to the golden square, and it expanded, spreading out to become the exit into the great hall beyond. I grinned as I turned to the others.

"There," I said. "That's better, isn't it? Now you can be as loud as you want…" I turned back and yelled, "HEY, YOU! YEAH, YOU, WITH THE DRESS! NA NA NA NA NA NA!"

The kids flinched for a moment… then recognized that no one was reacting. That the party was continuing with people laughing and talking and… everything. No one… watching. I turned back to the children and concluded, "And no one will care." I snickered. "Neat, ain't it?"

Every last child in that room stared at me like I was either a complete Looney Tune, the single coolest thing they had ever seen in their life, or a mixture of both. I walked past them, ruffling a boy's hair as I went. "Keep it secret, okay? No adults allowed. They're too boring." I winked as I walked out, throwing a wave over my shoulder with my words. "Have fun!"

I was still grinning to myself as I made it back into the other hallway, then walked through it and back into the Great Hall. I tipped an extra wink at the wall where I knew the kids were hiding behind before getting another drink.

 _Well,_ I thought to myself. _That was fun._

And at least someone would get a kick out of all those old nooks and crannies that Loki and Thor used to play in as kids. And anyone who was once a child will tell you; there's nothing worse than a parent explicitly telling you that you can't go somewhere; like a fancy-pants politics party. That's practically an open invitation to go and cause havoc.

"You have a way with children."

I think I jumped worse than the kids had. Whirling on the speaker, feeling my dress and hair flow a bit, a few strands lashing my cheeks, I blushed a deep ruby. Especially when I saw the speaker himself: Odin.

I didn't bother trying to deny anything. I'd done that before, and I knew it never really worked. The dude saw through you, no matter what you said. "Child at heart," I admitted, taking a quick sip of my drink. And then a longer sip, momentarily wishing that it _was_ alcoholic; and enough to make me wasted in two seconds flat. But, unfortunately, it was not.

"With an old soul," Odin mused, looking at the other celebrating guests.

"The two are not mutually exclusive," I replied indifferently. It felt really weird, being next to this guy, talking things over like this. Most of the time, there was a throne standing in between us, continuously reminding me just how easy it would be for him to 1. Wipe me out or 2. Declare war on my planet. Not that he ever _would._ But I was always aware that he _could._

I hoped that wasn't something that would happen to Thor, once he was on the throne. The thought chilled me a little, and I took another quick drink. Those kinds of things had always put a little distance between myself and Odin, and I didn't want to have that problem with my 'brother', too.

"Indeed," Odin agreed, and we were silent. I looked down at my feet, wondering what the Asgardian King thought of me. The mortal who had been forced into a connection with his son, then agreed to keep that connection to help him. The human who had played shrink on Loki for almost a year, who had busted him out of prison and fought beside him. Who had saved his life. Who had sacrificed her own. Who had given up her world to a tyrant in order to save Asgard and seven others. Who had brought that tyrant back from his fury and shown him another path…

Odin and I had been on semi-friendly terms for so long now… but I knew that I was a pawn. That I had been for a very long time. When I had gone to Jotunheim, before Kiross' death, to discuss Fraye with the Jotuns, to warn them about her proximity to their world, Odin had known. He had _let_ me go. Because it fit his chess game. I was just… another piece.

And that had happened before. The question was; would it happen again? Was I still another piece-a pawn or knight or rook- or had I graduated and become an actual player?

Or had the pawn simply become a better piece, by promoting itself to a queen?

My head started hurting again.

"They mean everything to you," Odin was suddenly speaking again. I looked to him and saw his ancient stare watching something on the far end of the room. For some reason, I didn't have to look to be certain that it was Loki. "Your children." His eyes, suddenly sharp and piercing, turned to me. Me and the ring on my finger.

I found myself forced to look away. "And no one is ever good enough for them, right?" I asked, in a quiet whisper. My stomach twisted a bit, my heart giving a despondent little lurch.

There was a pause. Then, with a grim solemnity, "No."

I looked to him. Because it wasn't the full answer. I wasn't sure how I knew that, but I _knew_ it.

He turned to me. "Until one is."

I smiled, a tiny gesture that probably betrayed a lot of my nervousness, a lot of the happy anxiety that was surging through me. And then I looked away.

"You have done much for him," he said, in a quiet voice that I knew only I could hear. I saw many eyes on us, on this conversation that did not look entirely like a conversation, with our faces turned away from each other as we watched the crowds instead. "You have brought him back from a brink that I could not. Saved him from a darkness that I could not."

I looked down, biting my tongue. Because it would do no one any good to point out the obvious; that Odin should have known better. He should have known not to lie about Loki's true nature. He should have known not to reject what Loki had done while he was hanging from the edge of the Bifrost. And above all else, above _everything else,_ he should have _known_ that the darkness he threw his son in, that prison that he had been forced inside, was the very measure and sum of every fear that Loki had ever had. He should have _seen_ that fear on Loki's face, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Because he was Loki's _father,_ and I… at the time, I hadn't even been his _friend._

But what good did it do, to dwell on the past? What was the _point_ in remembering mistakes? Realms knew that I'd made enough in my life. I'd rejected my father for years, even after knowing what had been done to him. I'd let my best friend die and hadn't been able to stop it. I'd let a lot of people die in a quest to save everyone. I'd tortured a man and killed others. I made mistakes; I was only human, after all.

But, it seemed, making mistakes wasn't about 'being human'. It was about living. You name yourself by species or rank and you make mistakes regardless and in the end, no matter who you are or what title you hold, you realize that you're in the same hot mess that we all exist in: a little thing we liked to call 'life', hoping that giving it a name will force it to make more sense.

Mistakes weren't a human invention. They were life's.

So I turned to Odin. And I said the truest thing that I have ever said in my life. "Yeah." I swallowed. "And I'd do it again."

Did he understand what that meant? Did full comprehension sink in? Did he know what I would have sentenced myself to, in order to do these things for his son? The years of pain and hate, followed by those muddled times, when Loki and I became friends, those horrible times in which I fell in love with him and did not know? That time when I found out and was rejected, sent to Fraye? The torture I endured there, and the thousands of deaths on my world? Did he know that I would go through _all_ of that again, just for Loki? Just for the adopted Frost Giant that he referred to as his 'son'?

I think he did, for his eyes were very grave as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know," he answered.

And I knew that he did.

"I wish you the best for your lives," he said. "For however long they last."

I felt a little chill run down my spine at the memory of my mortality as Odin nodded deeply to me, turned, and walked away.

* * *

Loki was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of attention his brother was giving him. Granted, this was not entirely Thor's fault, but it was difficult to force himself through the thousandth rendition of his perspective on the so-named 'Battle of Shadows' while other, more pressing matters were lingering in the back of his mind. Matters such as the Jotun-Asgardian alliance, and the Casket of Ancient Winters. Things that mattered in _current_ politics, as opposed to old ones.

But he forced himself to be patient. To speak with slow and cautious tones and to feign interest in every question that was asked of him. It was what he was meant to do.

Finally, however, he managed to pull his brother aside. "Thor, may I speak with you?" he lowered his voice. "Privately?" He barely kept himself from hissing the words through his teeth.

Thor appeared mildly startled. But he nodded. "Of course," he agreed, and the two walked together towards the side of the hall, towards an exit…

"Ah, not there," Loki course-corrected Thor swiftly, navigating him away from the hallway. "Natalie has… _informed_ a few of the… _uninvited little ones_ about certain… _memories_ of our past?"

He chose the words so carefully that it took Thor a moment to understand them. And then his eyes flicked to the secret entranceway, unseen by any but those who were on its other side. He laughed, trying to keep it quiet. "Ah," he said, nodding his understanding. "Of course."

The two walked to the other end of the hall, finding another exit-there were a few- and walking outside, to the hallway/balcony on _this_ end. Loki reflexively glanced to the skies, as I would have, if it were me. I loved the skies of Asgard, which morphed from daylight to starlight in such strange patterns, from the inside of the castle to the outside of its walls. And then he turned to Thor.

"Brother…" he said slowly, piecing his words together carefully. "There is no way to say this without difficulty. I do not wish to allow… _politics_ into a relationship that has only barely begun to heal." He almost- _almost-_ rolled his eyes. "Nothing, I'm sure, can damage it faster. But… there is something urgent that I _must_ speak about with you."

Thor's wide eyes immediately became all at once innocent and protective. "Anything, brother," he said.

 _Trusting little fool,_ Loki found himself thinking; but strangely fondly. _You need me, brother, more then you will ever know._

"Concerning the relations between our worlds," Loki started, folding his hands together in front of him. "As an Avenger, I am your teammate and your brother; and thus bound to you in the field of battle against any threat posed to either of our worlds, or any of the nine realms. However," he brought his hands a little higher, holding them with fingertip against fingertip, and pressing the tips of his index fingers to his lower lip briefly as he considered. After a moment, he lowered his hands and continued, "I believe it is in the best interests of all if we were to bring our worlds into that same alliance. If we were to tie Jotunheim and Asgard together in a more… official capacity." His eyes went to Thor. "You are not King yet; but soon you will be. And when that time comes… I wish for us to become allies."

Thor's eyebrows had gone up. He was smiling a little, not his typical boisterous grin but still a happy gesture nonetheless. He nodded once, a little quirk of the head, an almost bounce. "Of course, Loki." He leaned forwards and placed a hand on Loki's shoulder, close to his neck, beaming now as his pale, rain-blue eyes sparkled. "I want nothing more than for us to be-"

"Thor," Loki cut him off with a sharp and serious glance. Thor blinked, mildly startled, and Loki allowed his features to soften as he half-sighed quietly. "Things are no longer so simple, brother," he said, in a low voice that was nigh conspiratorial. Giving quiet advice to an old friend, trying to teach him the ways of the world. Trying to tell him that he needed to grow up now. "And no matter how much I may wish for such an alliance, there have always been… animosities between Jotunheim and Asgard. Asgardian children grow up believing that Jotuns are monsters." Loki's red eyes met his adoptive brother's blue ones. "Do you really believe that Jotun children do not grow up believing the same of Asgardians?"

Thor looked confused for a brief second, and slightly upset. "But there is no reason for such animosities; it was _Fraye_ who caused them, _Fraye_ who-"

"And we are all _aware_ of that," Loki stressed, still keeping his voice low and calm and soothing, reaching forwards and placing a hand on his brother to keep him composed. "However… those battles took their toll on us all, Thor. Men, women, children… they were all lost in those wars, from both worlds. And Jotunheim was left as a shell of itself, unable to rebuild, with its heart taken from inside of it, its power, _taken._ And as much as I may wish for us to stay allies, I fear that the Jotuns would not respect such a thing so long as that source of power stays within _Asgardian_ hands." He sighed. "To them… it would feel more like slavery then an alliance."

Thor's eyes tightened considerably, and Loki felt something twist in his gut as he recognized the suspicion there. A remnant and relic from the days in which it had been necessary. He could not expect it to vanish so quickly, no matter how much he wished for it… Loki quickly stepped in before Thor could voice his suspicions aloud, before the blundering idiot could try and tiptoe around his words and end up tripping over them. Loki understood Asgard's suspicion; it made sense, that they would not wish for the Casket to return to Jotun hands.

He only wished that it was not his brother's suspicion as well.

"You knew that I would ask," Loki said, very quietly, imploringly. "You knew from the day that I accepted the crown. Knew that this day would come." He took a step closer to Thor, keeping his eyes on his brother's. "And that is why I am _asking,_ Thor. Why I am not trying to… to _keep_ my motivations a secret from you. I don't wish to do so any longer. Every Asgardian knows that I wish for the Casket- and every Jotun knows the same. I am coming here, now, to _ask_ for it; so that no one can accuse me of conspiring to _steal_ it." He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "The man I was might have done so, Thor, but I am that man no longer."

Thor turned away, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. He walked over to the edge of the balcony, his hands curling into fists, and he rested on them, placing them on the ledge and leaning against them. "Because of Natalie," he said quietly. And then, louder, "And are you here at _her_ behest, brother?" he turned back to Loki, a somewhat desperate hope shining in his eyes. Pleading to be wrong. "Do you only ask at _her_ command?"

"At her advice," Loki corrected. "A man is nothing if he is not willing to listen to the wisdom of others; and only charges blindly ahead with his own plans." He stepped forwards. "Brother, please. I understand if you must think on this, I _understand_ if you must refuse." He placed his hand on the ledge as well, keeping his eyes on Thor. "But… consider this alliance. For all of our sakes."

Thor's eyes softened considerably, the suspicion immediately banished. Sighing deeply, he nodded a few times. "Of course, Loki." He held out a hand. Loki took it, and the two shook. "We shall discuss this at length later."

"Aye," Loki agreed, as Thor turned away. The two walked back into the great hall and parted ways.

 _Well,_ Loki thought to himself, sitting momentarily. _That went better than expected._

* * *

"Alas, poor ankles, I knew them well."

Puck snorted as I sat down next to him, wincing. "Don't get me wrong, I love a good party," I said, sitting back in my chair as a plate of food was shoved towards me; food that, in the days before Loki, I never would've been able to identify. "But my feet are _dying,_ here."

"Your feet and my pride, m'lady," Puck told me in a murmur, meant for our ears only. "I truly believe that I have lost count of how many times I have been asked, 'Oh, so you're that half-breed slave that the Shadowslayers took pity on?'"

"They actually said that?"

"Close enough," Puck said the words and sighed at the same time. "And if their words don't say it, their eyes do." He sighed deeply. "I do believe that less damage has been done to my pride by those lower on the political food chain. The 'lessers' of the world, as it were."

I nudged him gently. "Get used to it, kiddo. Politics are hell."

He smiled weakly as I turned to my food. It was all good stuff, even if it _was_ alien stuff. Just… don't get me started on how many things I found out that I was allergic to since coming to other worlds. Another little nuisance of traveling to other worlds, kinda like interplanetary jet lag: not fun.

"I'm glad you're here, though," I admitted. "A little bit of sanity in an insane world, eh?"

"Ditto, m'lady," he mumbled with a trace of tiredness. I smiled weakly at him and held up my glass in a toast; he clinked his own goblet against it with an ironic, sad smile, and the two of us drank. We were quiet for a while, too tired of speaking and pretending and acting like everyone we talked to were the most interesting people we'd ever met, while at the same time looking for a knife that was being sharpened behind us. Just in case there was one. So far, not too many.

I looked around at those eating and feasting beside me, these Asgardians and Jotuns and other species all congregating in an effort to improve relations between worlds. All gathering to celebrate the coronation of the newest Asgardian King. Loki's coronation was a little more rushed then Thor's, admittedly, with a little less celebration and fanfare (though still a fair amount) but that was different. The Asgardians still had a living king. The Jotuns hadn't. They had needed someone on the throne; and _quickly._

Puck stiffened abruptly, his eyes sharpening and gleaming as shock crossed his features. I looked to him, and to the thing that had caught his eye; far across the room, a woman stood, talking with Steprin. She was an Asgardian, far shorter than the Jotun (who was keeping a discreet eye on Loki whenever he had the chance to do so). I frowned, giving her a quick look-over. Her hair was red, a soft, orangey-red color that shone in the gold Asgardian light. It fell down her shoulders in waves, and from this angle, that was most of what I could see of her; other than her relatively small-ish stature (Though, considering the Giants I spent most of my time with these days, 'small' was a relative term).

It wasn't until she turned partway towards us, showing us her face, that Puck relaxed, looking mildly… _disappointed._ I lifted an eyebrow, looking at him, and he shook his head out quickly, self-irritation sparking in his eyes.

"What is it?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

He seemed a little surprised that I'd caught on to his momentary lapse… and flushing deeply- I was starting to get the hang of noticing when Jotuns did that, blue skin or no- he turned away. "I… It was nothing, Lady Frost."

But the look on his face- the extremes of joy and fear and disappointment- had told me that it was anything but _nothing._ "Liar," I chided, nudging him. "Spill it. What's the deal?"

He paused, his eyes lingering for a long moment on the red-haired Asgardian. And then he sighed, very quietly. It was a lost and lonely sound, and for some reason, it made my heart wrench and twist.

"I thought… I saw someone that I knew," he answered, his voice growing steadily quieter with each word.

I looked at the Asgardian woman. A sly little smile crossed my lips. "Oh- _ho,_ " I said, leaning a bit closer to the half breed and wiggling my eyebrows. "You never told me you left behind a lady on Earth, Puck my dear."

"What?" he asked, looking genuinely startled. His face darkened in hue; he was _definitely_ blushing now. "No! No, it was nothing like that! Why would you… why would you _think…?_ "

I gave him a look. "Elementary, my dear half-breed. You were on Earth for a large number of years before you came to Jotunheim. You see someone that looks like the person you left behind; and seeing as the person you were just ogling was an _Asgardian,_ she has more in common with a human than a Jotun; meaning that your little crush was definitely _human."_

"I just thought… they were like someone I knew…" he said, pouting defiantly. I lifted a skeptic eyebrow.

"Suuure," I answered, dragging the word out. He gave me a glare under his blush; a definite improvement from the old days. He never would have dared to show any animosity towards me before Loki had made him his apprentice. "Sweetie," I said in a kind, sugary voice, placing a hand on Puck, "You don't get that look from someone you 'just know'."

He looked away, staring at the food on his plate as though, within the course of the last few seconds, it had become the single most unappetizing thing in the world. His hands twisted in his lap, hidden beneath the table. I chuckled quietly and lifted my goblet off the table, taking a pointed sip, speaking into the glass as I looked over at him, "So what was her name?"

His cheeks became a darker blue. He didn't answer. I set the goblet down. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me," I went on. "Truth be told, I'm just a little surprised. I wouldn't have expected…" I thought that over, and my eyes softened. "Well, I guess when you live around humans your whole life…"

"Please, m'lady," he whispered, nigh silently, and I realized only then that he was trembling just slightly. There was a strange emotion in his voice, a raw emptiness… Pity lanced through me, and fury at my own idiocy. He'd jumped at the thought of seeing her. He'd been so startled to think that she might be here. It was more than possible that he had lost this girl, in one way or another; why would he exile himself to Jotunheim, exile himself to the life of a slave, if he had a life with someone he loved on Earth?

I forced my eyes to soften; it wasn't a difficult task. Placing a careful hand on Puck's shoulder, I said, "I'm so sorry."

I wasn't sure what I was apologizing for. My brashness in the matter? Whatever had happened to this girl? One way or another, it felt right to say it. Felt right to apologize. He gave me a weak smile and turned away, his eyes solemn again within a heartbeat.

I turned to my food, which was abruptly looking just as unappetizing to me. Love had made Loki see the way out of the darkness. Love had brought us together and kept us together. But I'd forgotten what could become of those who loved without being loved in return; what had _made_ Loki in the first place. What had made _me,_ so long ago. Loving our fathers, our families, our friends… and thinking ourselves only unlovable in return.

Love was what made men. But it was also what made monsters.

We were quiet for a long time. And then I said, in a soft tone, "You don't have to tell me Puck. But… if you ever want to talk about it…" I placed a hand on his arm. "I'm here."

He turned to me. This time, he did not smile; he seemed too weak to attempt the gesture again. But he nodded. "Thank you," he said in a gentle voice, looking away.

And we spent the rest of the evening in silence, watching the celebrations carry on.

* * *

"Dead," I announced in a dull monotone, leaning against Loki the second we entered our room. He chuckled softly and helped me to stay upright. I was still in my dress and shoes and makeup, but my eyes were glued to the bed; I didn't want to take the time to shower or change. I just wanted to sleep.

"Oh, come now," Loki said gently. "It wasn't so bad."

"Dead," I insisted as he led me to the bed, and I allowed myself to all but fall into a seat on it. I don't know what kept me sitting upright; maybe the need to pull off my shoes? I yanked them off and rubbed my ankles, groaning in pain and gritting my teeth against it. "Dead, dead, dead," I repeated a few times.

Loki chuckled again, and again it was quiet and soft, as he lowered himself into a seat beside me. But for all of his patronization and insistence that it 'wasn't so bad', I saw his shoulders slump in a semi-exhausted way. He placed a hand on my back, running it gently across my shoulders, his cold touch making me shiver a little.

"For all that you hate the formality of the dress," he said slowly, his eyes intent on me. His fingers moved off of my back so that he could gently tuck one of my stray brown curls behind my ear. "You do look beautiful."

I flushed. This, coming from _Loki._ With those perfect looks and those high cheekbones and that gorgeous face and those eyes that always shone no matter what color they were… I hung out around a lot of very, _very_ good-looking people, and Loki was definitely the top of that list. So from him…? That was a compliment beyond a lot of compliments, and no matter how much he insisted, I wasn't certain that it was one I deserved.

"I don't _hate_ the formality," I said primly, looking away from him and smoothing out said dress. The sunset-orange layers were far less muted outside of the golden light of Asgard, and they shone just slightly as the cloth rippled past my touch. "I like dressing up on occasion as much as the next girl." I leaned back. "I _don't_ like having to be _perfect._ "

"Why ever not?" he teased. "You're so close to it already."

I gave him a little _stop-it_ glare and elbowed him softly. He chuckled once, turning away, sliding his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his chest. His cape half-draped over me, which was welcome, because being back on Jotunheim in this _short-ish_ dress with its thin straps… well, it was kind of- a _hem-_ _ **freezing ass cold.**_ I took his cape and pulled it closer around my shoulders, leaning against my fiancée.

"One benefit of such politics," Loki mused. "At the very least, I shall see _you_ like _this_ more often." He sounded a little unbearably smug about that. I gave him a look, arcing an eyebrow.

"Ditto," I said, flicking the little clasp that held his cloak together. He grinned slyly as I settled back, wrapping my arm around him and curling a little closer into his chest. "I could get used to you in full regalia," I purred. "It's a good look."

He pulled the cloak closer around me, around us, adjusting it so that it covered me a little more decently, but also brought me just a little bit closer to him. "And I had quite forgotten what you looked like in a dress," he noted. "When was the last time, eighth grade?"

"High school prom," I answered wistfully, though he already knew that. "At least, that was the last time I was in something _this_ fancy."

"Ah, yes," he said. His words were growing quieter. For a moment, I thought it was because I was becoming too relaxed, that I was drifting away to sleep in his arms… but I suddenly realized that it was the opposite. For some reason, my head-and my heart- was pounding. I was suddenly intensely aware of Loki's close proximity, of the _exact_ distance between him and I. It was a little… _too_ close.

No. No, how could that be? Loki and I were close together all the time. That was how we were; two halves, one whole, beside each other at all times with no distance between us and no problems because of it. There was no awkwardness, no tension between us, no matter _how_ close we were.

So maybe I just wasn't close _enough._

"Abandoning such formality was very clearly a mistake," Loki continued. His voice was still distant and far-off. I moved a little closer, looking up to him. His words died into a strained whisper; and only then did I realize that they were not getting more distant. Hewas just getting quieter.

"Clearly," I agreed, looking at him, meeting his eyes. For a long, tenuous moment, the two of us just looked at each other. All I could do was look at him, wondering if he could feel this abrupt chasm between us, wondering if he knew just how badly I wanted to get closer, wondering if he was feeling the same, wondering just how bad it would be if I brought my face a bit closer towards his… too late, it was already within a breath of his. Noses almost touching, my heart pounding in fear and exhilaration… our minds were blocked off from each other as we looked into each other's eyes and I searched and searched, hoping to find the same wonderings in his eyes…

And then, carefully, his mind sifted into mine. The walls between us dissolved… the almost frightened innocence on his face-that I only recognized now that I felt it inside of his chest- now vanished in a heartbeat. A sly smile curled on his face, a smile worthy of the name 'Mischief'. His eyes-red and brilliant and vivid- glinted fiercely as his voice lowered.

"Precisely how tired did you say you were?" He asked, arching an eyebrow that fit with the rest of his smug, roguish face.

"Not enough," I answered, quirking an eyebrow myself in response.

He grinned, and in the next second breeched the gap between us. His lips were suddenly on mine, his hand in my hair, entangling with the tied-up strands… I wasn't caring so much about it, though, threading my own fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to myself. Though we started the kiss at a bad angle, we quickly corrected that, and suddenly the world was exploding and my heart was screaming, but the aching in my chest was a good one, the chaotic edges of the world turning to fire and exploding all around us was nothing to be frightened of, nothing to be scared of… There was absolutely nothing in the world, whether it was spontaneously combusting or otherwise, that I ever had to be afraid of again…

There were crazy fireworks every time I closed my eyes, so I didn't much like opening them. My stomach was in my toes and my head was all dizzy and I knew that Loki was feeling the same way, because I could _feel_ it, I could feel his thoughts and my own, meshing and blending and melding together until it was hard to figure out who was who but we didn't really care, not in the slightest.

It was chaos. But it was a great kind of chaos.

We both lost track of time. It was meaningless here, in this suspended moment. Time and reason didn't matter anymore; all that mattered was the smell of snow on his skin and the feel of his hand on my back that slowly traced up my spine and into my hair again. I wasn't breathing, but that didn't matter so much either, and I went for long moments not caring about the desperate screaming in my lungs before surfacing-briefly- for air.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

Was it the tightness of his arm around my waist that started it? No, I didn't care about that, and besides, I was holding him just as tightly. Was it the way his other hand crossed my throat as he reached up for my face again? No, I'd barely noticed that.

Was it _him?_ Was it the feel of the scars on his back as my fingers traced across them? No, I didn't care about the scar tissue, didn't care about the damage. He was mine, scarred or not.

No, if I was honest with myself, I knew that it was none of these things. It was nothing so physical, nothing so… _real._

It was that little voice in my head, speaking right into my ear in a voice as weathered, ancient, and dark as time itself. The voice of someone long ago dead. The voice of someone that I had killed, the voice of the person whose blood was on our hands, whose blood was all over us even as we embraced. It was the voice of a little girl with ancient black eyes.

 _He gave you over to me, Nat'lee. Don't you remember?_

It was this voice that made the world shatter, the chaos sorting to order in a blinding, horrific second of piercing agony through my skull. Everything was crystal clear and rational and my chaos, my beautiful chaos, it screamed its way into oblivion, vanished into nothingness, and I pulled away from Loki, pushing away from him as hard as I possibly could and almost pushing myself off of the bed. I gasped, a sound that was almost like a death rattle, a strained and painful gulp of air as I pushed myself away further, off of the bed and stumbling back a few steps. I barely kept my footing, still sucking down air desperately, and shaking from head to toe.

Loki's eyes were wide and innocent as I stayed there, shivering in the cold, the world sorted into perfect clarity as I categorized everything in my mind with a perfectly rational head: Loki's hair, all mussed, and mine much the same. The cuff on my ear missing and the cloak around Loki's shoulders unclasped and lying next to him. The beating of my heart, obnoxiously loud in my ears. A burning heat across the back of my neck, my ears, and the entirety of my face.

I stared at Loki, and Loki stared at me, for a long time. Whatever had passed between us had vanished just as quickly, evaporating into thin air, and we caught our breath as we watched each other: me, trembling in the cold, and Loki, wary and cautious and almost frightened.

It was Loki who breathed first. "Natalie," he said, in the quiet, gentle tones that one would speak with when they were addressing a child, or a frightened animal. A creature caught in a trap and willing to do anything, _anything,_ to survive; including taking out its captors.

"Don't," I rasped as he moved, shifting a little closer to me on the bed. He immediately froze, in complete compliance with my every word. His eyes flicked to me again, away from where he had been looking as he planned to rearrange himself, and they watched me intently. I pulled in a few breaths; in, out. In, out. Slowly, surely, still shakily. The world around me was cold and icy, a chill of a place, the entire planet made of ice and I could feel it, I was breathing it in at every second, the fire and the ice battling and the cold… the cold became everything, freezing me over from the outside in…

I don't know if it was a conscious decision on Loki's part, when his skin lightened from its deep blue, turning pale, and his eyes softened from their vivid red and into a softer, imploring green. He was trying to present himself as less of a threat, as more human, as less of a monster… he was shrouding himself in beautiful lies and hoping that it concealed what lied beneath… but why do that, when the truth was already beautiful enough?

"Natalie," he said again, in a very rational and delicate tone, gentle and kind, soothing and imploring. His next words were in Spanish, like how my mom or aunt would talk to me when I was little and having a nightmare. "You're freezing." His hand slowly, slowly, _ever-so-slowly,_ went to the cloak beside him. I watched him for a long time as he moved, inch by inch, collecting it in his hand, standing off the bed, and moving closer towards me. Once he was within arm's reach, a little whimper escaped from me, and he froze immediately, waiting me out. My teeth were beginning to chatter as I stood there, staring at him.

In one swift, fluid, graceful movement, he had the cloak draped over my shoulders. As his long fingers went to fasten the clasp around me, my hand shot up, grasping his wrist with all of the strength I had. He froze immediately, eyes still wide and careful and imploring and innocent.

"No," I whispered. Loki's features were cautious and careful and almost- _almost-_ frightened. " _No,_ " I repeated, speaking more to myself then I was to him. "This… this is wrong." I looked to him, meeting those green eyes and still shaking despite the cloak.

 _It can't be like this,_ I found myself thinking, unsure if he heard it or not. _I can't do this. Not to him. Not to myself. Not anymore._ My eyes started to prickle. _I love you too much,_ I thought, though I was now certain that he wasn't listening, that he had backed away, that he was giving me privacy for the moment, time to clear my head without his thoughts and emotions interfering.

I closed the few steps between us, keeping my hand on his wrist. He didn't move, watching me cautiously, allowing me to do whatever I needed to do. And, when I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his- lightly at first, and then with a little more urgency- he made a strange, startled sound in the back of his throat. It seemed to take him completely off guard, and it took him a long moment before he had the strength to push me back- gently, but forcefully- and take a step back.

"Natalie…" he whispered slowly. "Stop."

The conflict of emotions running through me was almost too much to handle; and the rejection that made my heart twist only fueled an intense, though slow-building rage that began to consume me entirely. "Why?" I demanded, and the word, though weak, was almost an attempt at a snarl.

Loki's hands were off me; there was no contact between us as he raised his palms halfway up, a clear surrender on his face and in his posture. "It's all right, Natalie," he said, very quietly. I did not miss the endless repeat of my name, my _first_ name, over and over again in an attempt to soothe me, to make everything better. He was also still speaking in Spanish. "I'm not… I won't… _force_ you into anything you _can't_ … anything you don't _want_ to. I… I _know_ what Fraye did to you, Natalie. I know what that _does_ to someone."

Yeah. He knew. Better than anyone did, Loki knew. Knew how frightening it was, to become close to someone after that; emotionally _and_ physically. After that time spent with Fraye, in which every 'kind' touch was followed by the most searing of agony…

"Whatever time you need to take…" Loki continued, still measuring each word carefully, still picking his way through his sentences with all the caution of a man traversing a mine field. "Take it. Do what you need to do."

I studied him, studied his face, with his perfect pale skin and brilliant, beautiful green eyes. But no matter how beautiful it was, it was a _lie._ It wasn't Loki. It was a farce, a plastic face he put on to cover the true person within. And it was Fraye- it was the mere _mention_ of Fraye- that had sent him crawling back under the cover of this lie. That had brought more lies into my life. That had separated us like this, that had forced me away from him and forced him into thinking that he needed to be away from me.

My rage boiled and bubbled, and I was shaking again, no longer cold. No longer freezing. Just _angry._ "Screw that." My snarl was no longer so weak. Loki blinked, startled by the pure loathing in my voice. His eyes softened again.

"Natalie," he tried once more, but I cut him off.

" _No_ ," I snapped. "Fraye Burns is _dead._ You got that? Dead as a damn _doornail._ I _gave_ her what she wanted, all right? I _gave_ her the out that she asked for." I was still holding his wrist, and I yanked it closer, pulling him closer to myself. "She doesn't get to control our lives anymore, _got that?_ I'm alive, you're alive, and she's _dead._ She has _no_ jurisdiction, _no_ say, _no_ voice in this matter, not anymore! I _gave_ her what she wanted and now? Now she is going to leave us the _hell_ alone and you and I? We're gonna do _whatever the hell we want._ You know why? _Cause we_ _ **can.**_ **"** I stepped the half-inch that was still between us, moving my face into his. I could see the crackling inside of my eyes through the reflection in his. "Because I _love you,_ no matter _what_ she tried to do to _stop that."_

The innocence in his eyes increased. I ignored it, jamming my lips against his again. I held his face in my hands, just holding him there, and for the longest time he kept his hands at his sides, kept himself from reacting… but only barely…

 _Natalie,_ he tried again, his voice very reasonable and rational in our minds.

 _Oh, shut up,_ I growled. _Don't you get it yet?_ _ **This**_ _is what I need to do: be with you. Be in love with you. Forever._

He was still hesitant; until I attacked his mind with all of the force that I could muster, turning his walls into ash and melding our emotions together. I felt the shock run through him as he was confronted with my sincerity, confronted with the full truth of what I'd been saying…

And that was it. His skin flushed into a deep blue and his hands weren't at his sides anymore. They were tangled in my hair, his arms accidentally brushing against the cloak and making it fall off of my shoulders. Neither of us really cared. I didn't even feel the cold. I didn't feel anything.

Just the world, exploding again.

* * *

Across stars, across galaxies, across the universe itself, a man sat, staring at the darkness beyond himself, staring at the stars, so very far away. As though he could see through them; and indeed, in so many ways, he could.

The man's grey eyes stared across the darkness, and he pulled his grey cloak closer around his shoulders. Everything about this man was grey, every hue he wore and every thought he had. Grey was his mind and grey was his power; the muddled space between light and dark, black and white, where most races of the universe resided and most of their lives were lived.

And now, his grey eyes stared across the stars and focused on the sleeping forms of two before scouting out a third, who spent the night of his world wide awake and dreamless.

"Him again?" A light and airy voice asked behind him, a voice made of bright melody despite its bored tone. The Grey Man did not turn around to face the speaker, a specter of brilliant white light. She sighed heavily, not bothering to lower herself into a seat beside him. "You pay far too much attention to the lesser species, brother. It will serve you ill in days to come."

"And it serves you ill to continue ignoring them, sister," the Grey Man mused.

"If they come to us, as we hope they will, then they will come to us," the white specter announced in a firm but still airy tone, her words light enough to dance on the nonexistent wind. "Until such a day, I am at peace, not meddling in the affairs of mortals."

"But what of him?" The Grey Man asked, his eyes immediately turning to her, sparkling and dancing as they always did whenever there was a conversation to be had, a conversation involving the graying of the white. "He does not believe himself to be 'mortal'. The Giant and the Half-Breed both call themselves 'immortal'. Who is to say that they are wrong, and we are right? Who is to say that they are mortal, that they do not live forever?"

The White Specter looked at him for a long time. What face she had in the brilliant light that formed her showed very clearly how little amused she was by this conversation. Wearied of his queries, she went on, "All things die around us. All others of their species have died. They are mortal, as they have always been."

"And what makes us immortal?" the Grey Man asked.

"We live on," the White Specter answered, as though this explained all.

"Ah, but only for now," The Grey Man said, his eyes dancing again. "Everything dies, dear sister." He turned away, allowing his feet to swing from the edge of the world where he sat. "Even you and I. Even our dear brother."

She did not respond for a very long moment. She very little gave way to exasperation, but for her brother, she occasionally made exception; but for now, she managed to keep herself in control.

"The Half-Breed trespasses upon our domain," She said, in a quiet, lofty voice. "This makes him strange. This makes him different. But this does not make him a threat, nor a hindrance." She turned. "And he is not worth wasting your time watching him. He will come to us, and he will bring them to us, as he has come to us and brought them to us a thousand times before in mind and memory."

"Ah, yes," The Grey Man said. "Of course."

The White Specter turned away and breezed away, the light that composed her never once touching the ground. And then the Grey Man turned back to the stars and, smiling the smile of a man deranged, inquired of those stars, "But what if he does not?"


	6. The Avengers' Psych Reports

**LOOK AN UPDATE YAY.**

 **A shorter chapter this time? I might do slightly shorter chapters like this in the future. Who knows.**

"Nice… ear thingy, Natalia," Tiff complimented as I sat down next to her in our psych class.

I grinned. "Thanks. My-"

"Fiancée gave it to you?" She guessed, with much sarcasm. I flushed and nodded, and she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. The guy's got taste, I'll give him that."

Despite how badly wearing the ear cuff had made my ear turn red the night before, I'd found myself picking out the only orange shirt that I owned for school today, just for the sake of wearing it. Everything else in the outfit sort of slotted into place from there. It was a little louder than my usual ensemble, but I found that I liked it. It reflected my oddly cheery mood.

It had been a while, after all, since I'd been able to shove aside Fraye like that. It made me feel stronger then I had felt in weeks. Strong enough to get through class without flinching every time the door opened. Strong enough to stop chewing gum all the time. Maybe even strong enough to confront Steve later today and demand to know what in the heck his red white and blue _problem_ was.

Tiff seemed to noticed my good mood. She gave me a little smile as class began, lowering her voice so that she could whisper, "You seem cheery."

"Little bit," I admitted with a half-shrug, trying not to get detected by the professor. And then I looked back to Tiff. "How's everything going with… You know."

"Stuff?" She filled in, smiling sly and arching an eyebrow. I shrugged again, and she chuckled quietly. "One day at a time, Natalia," She answered, opening her textbook in front of her. "One day at a time."

I nodded, a little more solemnly. I got that. More than a lot of people would, I was sure. The professor called our attention to the slideshow in front of us, having one of the students flick off the light. They did so, and I did what I could to pay attention to the power point on the board.

I later realized that this day was inevitable. That it had been inevitable for a very, very long time. That it was the assignment of the _century_ and the best psych study there was. Really, I was actually surprised that it had taken _this_ long for me to get an assignment like this.

But at the time, when I first heard about it? I was totally floored.

"Iron Man, The Hulk, Captain America," The teacher announced the names like they were every day and common place. Like it was just another assignment, just another psychological study. To everyone else, it was. An excited buzz went through the class; this particular professor was not always a big fan of superheroes. "Just a few of the many, _many_ supers which have taken the world by storm." The professor turned back to us, her eyes stern and serious. "Ask yourself: what does it take, to cause a person like this?"

"Steroids?" One student joked as an old poster of the Cap from back in WWII was displayed. The suit he wore accented his muscles, proving the student's point and making a lot of the others in class laugh.

"A _lot_ of steroids!" Another student chimed as the slide changed to the Hulk, drawing forth more laughs.

"Amusing," The Professor said dully. "But consider the psychological aspects: what does it take, for a person to put on a mask? Whether or not their identity remains hidden, like Captain America here," She gestured to a new slide, depicting the guy that I knew as 'Steve', "Or are common knowledge, like the infamous Tony Stark." The next slide had a clip: Tony's big, 'I am Iron Man' press conference. I felt chills go through me. "What does it take, to wear a mask? To become… a superhero? Or, taking things to a different turn," She flicked the slide. My heart leapt to my throat and jammed itself there, pounding a loud tattoo. "What creates a so-named 'super villain'?"

I looked away and gripped the scars on my arms so tightly that I lost all feeling in the fingers of both hands. "Fraye," The teacher announced. "Loki." I didn't look up as the slide changed. I knew what I'd see: one of the many grainy, fuzzy pictures that had been taken of my fiancée with the shadow's helm on his head. Maybe it would have even be good enough that his face could be made out in the picture. I didn't want to see that. I _refused_ to see that.

"Ten years ago, men like Thor and Hawkeye, women like the Black Widow… as far as the world was concerned, these men and women did not exist."

 _Kinda like me,_ I found myself thinking. My stomach twisted a little. I didn't mind not having a masked double, didn't mind not having a secret identity like the others… but in a way, with this teacher talking about everyone else… it kind of made me think that I didn't even have an _identity,_ identity.

"But now… now they are every day. Common knowledge. And the psychological study of a lifetime."

Well, she had that one right.

"This is a group assignment; I want everyone working in groups of twos. I trust you can all handle that like adults."

Tiff immediately grabbed my arm and shouted, "MINE!" Which made a few more laughs spread through the room. I gave her a little grin. Well, if there was one person I could work on this with, it was definitely her.

The professor gave us both a look before carrying on. "I want each of you to write a two-page typed report on the 'super' of your choice. 'Hero', 'villain', it doesn't matter." She was already handing out packets. It made me feel like I was in third grade again, but I swept it up and studied it hungrily, trying to find an immediate loophole. No way could I get through this without one. "Now, I understand the limitations of research concerning these topics; so I want you all to focus on _theories._ Ideas, of what might _drive_ these men and women to do the things that they have done. To wear masks. To protect, or to destroy, respectively. Why they keep their identities hidden, or why they give them away. Why they remain the only ones with these types of 'powers'; why they do not try and learn from them. Perhaps why they do not attempt to… _give_ them to others."

Why Stark wouldn't give up the suit, basically. Or, wait, no, did the general public even know that no one had found the formula that made Steve? That no one, not even Steve himself, knew what it was? Gah, my head started hurting; what did this ignorant bunch of norms actually _know_ about superheroes? What could I get away with bullshitting and what did I actually have to present as facts?

It was a report I could write in my sleep, if I was handing it in to S.H.I.E.L.D. On _any_ superhero out there. Even the ones I didn't directly _know._ I'd hung out with enough of them to have a fair idea of how their general psyche worked.

 _A-_ _ **hem.**_ _How_ _ **our**_ _general psyche works._

Right. I forced myself to remember that: I was a superhero, too. An Avenger. Even Loki was an Avenger, though these norms didn't know that.

But this wasn't a report that I could type up and hand in to a _college professor._ I didn't want to give anything away.

"Sweet," Tiff was saying beside me with a grin as the professor continued on about how we needed only to discuss psychological 'theories', and 'theoretical diagnoses.' "Free reign to BS whatever we want. This'll be fun."

I shot her a weak little smile. "Yeah," I replied glumly, then turned back to the papers. "Fun."

But my stomach was twisting. And I spent the rest of the class in silence, staring at the words and feigning interest in the rest of the session, all the while thinking. All the while wondering.

In all of the research on superheroes that was sure to come from this class… would any of them even have a clue about me? About what I'd done for them and for this world?

I hadn't done it for recognition. But every planet in the nine realms, so many planets beyond that… all knew my name. All knew of the Shadowslayers.

Every planet, but my own.

* * *

I don't think I ever saw Tony Stark laugh so hard.

"This is the single best assignment _ever!"_ he crowed, dropping the stack of papers in front of me. "You've got this one in the _bag,_ Pizza Girl."

I scowled at him. "Oh, yes, Stark, because every college student has high-level S.H.I.E.L.D. security clearance, and access to the Avengers, and a great number of their enemies. I'll just write everything I know and hand it over to my teacher, breaking whatever agreement I signed to all for the sake of getting an A in my psych class. Yep, sounds plausible."

Tony snickered. "Au contraire, Deliverer of Pepperoni. _You_ have an excuse, remember? And an old _contact_ among the Avengers." He winked at me. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to figure that out… and eventually I gave up, burying my head in my hands.

"You know, someday, something that you say will make sense."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I really expect better from you these days, your majesty," he mocked. Pulling up a chair and turning it around so that he could sit on it backwards, facing me, he folded his arms on the back of the chair and set his chin on them. "You are the Queen of a world now. You can't afford to be stupid."

"I'm not Queen yet, and I'll act how I want," I answered, and to prove my point I stuck my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes again and sighed.

"Point taken, I suppose," he mumbled. "But is a certain little Natalie Frost forgetting how this business all started in the first place?"

"Yeah. You couldn't keep a lid on your tech."

"Wrong! How did it all start from an _outsider's_ perspective?" When I blinked at him, he sighed theatrically. "What was the first lie you ever told about us, Knick-Nat?"

I glared outright at him for the nickname. That was a family nickname and he wasn't allowed to _touch_ it. Even if he _was_ like my family; he was from my _second_ family. A separate bloodline.

But then I thought about his words. And everything clicked.

"The first lie I ever told…" I breathed. "That I had an internship at Stark Tower. That I was learning from you directly."

"Precisely," Tony said, pointing at me and nodding. "You get your project partner and tell them that you can set up a personal interview. Badda Bing, Badda Boom, you're done."

I looked at him, momentarily touched. "You'd do that for me? Help me with some stupid assignment?"

He smiled wickedly. Good feelings gone. "Oh, there's a lot that I would do to meet a few of your normal friends, Natalie," he said, and I swear he licked his lips. "It's made me curious, how far you go out of your way to keep us from ever meeting."

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

"More then I can begin to tell you."

"Crap."

He grinned, swiveling his chair over to me so that he could sling an arm around my shoulder. "Ah, don't worry about it, Bubbletastica. It'll be fun. A proper little bonding experience."

"Shoot me now."

He was still chuckling as I pushed him away, but I'll admit that I was smiling a bit. "Thanks, Stark. For at least… toning down the…" I smirked. "Tony-ness."

"Anytime, Frost," he answered breezily, turning away. "Have fun with your little project!"

I took the pages and tucked them into my backpack before heading out of the room. Well, that was one worry off of my mind.

Now onto the next one.

It wasn't hard to find Steve, even without asking JARVIS. He was where he usually was; in the gym, pounding punching bags. Giving them a nasty beating, too.

I stepped up to the Captain, leaning against said punching bag; or at least, appearing to. "Can we talk?" I asked, making certain that my shield was flared. I did _not_ want to end up on the wrong side of one of Steve's punches _without_ the force field.

He blinked, seeming mildly startled by my appearance, but he stepped back graciously enough. "Sure." He picked up a nearby water bottle and took a long swig, splashing a bit on the back of his neck before setting it down again.

"All right," I said, blatant and almost harsh. I toned it down before I moved on. Steve was still my friend. "I'm just gonna cut straight to the chase here, shall I?" One blonde eyebrow went up. I folded my arms. "What is your _damage,_ Soldier Boy?"

His eyebrow went down again, only so that both of his eyebrows could furrow together. "I'm sorry?"

I rolled my eyes. "You've been ignoring me for weeks. Sure, you were gone: but you didn't write, you didn't call, you didn't keep in touch. And the minute you come back, it's like, oh, 'hey, I'm too tired to talk right now, but it's good to see you again'. And you act like I wouldn't _know_ that's a _lie._ " My eyes narrowed. "You've got a problem with me and I wanna know what it is."

Steve didn't respond, but his body language spoke volumes. His jaw became a little tighter, his arms slowly folded, and his feet shifted, a bit closer together. His entire form closed up as he glanced down at the floor, then back to me.

"Is this about Loki?" I demanded. "About the engagement?" His eyes flickered away. I couldn't stop the mild sound of disgust that made its way out of my throat. "You know, part of the reason he proposed was to make a statement. To keep our worlds on good terms. I _thought_ you'd be _happy_ that we have a little bit of _backup_ , maybe, or some _insurance_ that Jotunheim will _never attack!"_ I found my heart heating up as the words kept pouring out of me, their friction burning my throat as my anger grew brighter. "And you know, all that crap he did, he'd give _anything_ to take it back! Do you think we should just lock him in a room somewhere, where he can't do anything for anyone? For crying out loud, Steve, at least on the throne he can _help_ people, and with a Midgardian Queen, he'll have a little more _say_ in Earth matters, give them a little more _inclination_ towards an _alliance!"_ He still remained silent, tight-lipped. I ogled at him. "After all this time, after _everything_ he's been through… how can you still _doubt_ him?"

"I don't," he answered, and his words were abruptly dark and curt. He seemed averse to saying any more, but the words were coming, anyway. "It's not Loki that I _doubt._ It's not _his_ motivations that I question." His eyes sharpened into flint and steel. "It's _yours._ "

I blinked, taking a step back. I was actually, physically _stunned_ by the words. " _What?"_

I could see him trying to force his eyes to soften, but when that proved futile, he turned away and sighed, his gaze on the ground. His words were still tight and heavily restrained. "The whole planet fell under his rule, Natalie. The _whole planet._ People… people _died_ because of his 'deal' with Fraye. Because Loki…"

My eyes narrowed. "Because Loki gave me up," I filled in.

He looked back up to me. "It wasn't _Loki_ who gave you up," he said, and the words were the closest that I'd ever heard to a snarl from his voice. "It was _you._ "

My eyebrows shot up. My chest got a little bit tighter, and Steve looked away again. We were silent for a long moment, the tension, the anger building. Finally, Rogers turned away, walking towards his things, packing his water bottle and towel all away.

"Steve," I tried again, admittedly with a little too much hostility in my voice. Rogers slammed his fist into the nearest punching bag before he whirled around, turning to me.

" _What?"_ he demanded. " _What_ do you have to say about that, Natalie? What _possible_ excuse _could you have?_ " he advanced on me. There was a lot of pain in his eyes, misery that he had suppressed. This was an old pain. An old ache. The anger in his eyes was not like hate, not like fury; it was an _injured_ rage. He didn't quite get in my face, that wasn't his style, but he got closer. Stood taller. " _We_ were going to put him away! _We_ were going to lock him up and make sure he _couldn't_ do it, make sure he _couldn't hurt you!_ And you… you stood in front of us, you looked every last one of us in the eye, and you swore, you _**swore**_ that he wouldn't do it! You looked us in the eye and you _lied!_ "

I took another, stumbling step back. Steve kept himself together, held himself in check only by stepping back himself, pressing his hand to his forehead, using it to cover his eyes as he closed them. This wasn't what I'd expected. This wasn't what I'd prepared for. All this time, I'd thought that he was having a fit because I was marrying a man who was once his enemy, who had stood above crowds of mortals, a killer and a tyrant… I hadn't been prepared for the hurt inside of him. I hadn't been prepared for the idea that _I_ had caused that hurt.

"You stood by him," Steve continued, now with a higher measure of control. But his voice still shook a bit. "You stood by his side, you said you'd go to _prison_ with him, you said you'd… you'd run _away_ with _him…_ You _swore_ that he couldn't hurt you, you _swore_ it, over and over again. And all that time… all that time you _knew_ that he would." He lowered his hand so that he could peer over it, look at me with those injured blue eyes. "You _knew_ he would hand you over and you didn't let us do anything to _stop it._ "

"I didn't _know,"_ I tried to protest. "Not at first, not right away-"

"No, but you knew he was _considering it!_ " Steve's voice rose again. He brought it back under control again before he carried on, through gritted teeth, "You said he couldn't even think about it. You let us believe that we wouldn't lose you. And then you went behind our backs and handed yourself to Fraye on a silver platter." His voice trembled just the slightest fraction more as he said, " _You_ handed yourself over to her. It wasn't just _Loki._ "

I bit my lip. For the longest time, I couldn't think of a response. Because he was right. I had left that decision in Loki's hands. I had let _him_ decide what happened to me. But I had also made certain that there would be no interference. I had also left the Avengers completely and entirely out of it.

It wasn't just Loki who had betrayed them all.

Steve spoke again. His voice was far more in control now, quiet and soft, but still with those undercurrents of pain and anger. "I didn't want to say anything. You've been through enough. But you're an Avenger now. You're part of the team." He looked up to me. "And you can't just… make these choices anymore. You have to be _part of the team._ " Another, brief silence. Then, "And if you had bothered to _consult_ with the team, you would've known, you would've _seen…_ we could have done it, Natalie. We beat Fraye in the end, didn't we? We stopped her, all of us, together, and it all worked out in the end. You didn't have to go through that. We could have beaten her one way or another, whether Loki handed you over or not, whether you were _tortured_ or not. And no one…" His eyes turned away from me again. "No one needed to die."

Those words zapped through me on an electric current, kicking my heart into a weird double-skip and playing jump rope with my intestines. Because that was everything that I had wondered, everything that I had been repeating to myself.

If I had just made a different call… no one had to have died. Those thousands who had perished when Fraye took control. Tiff's brother, her parents, they'd still be alive. Those people she killed… she never would've had a reason to do so. And Benny, well, he wouldn't be as stony as he was right now, would never have had to be a message-runner for the rebellion. That edge in his eyes never would have appeared. Jade wouldn't have had to go to a therapist and Adrian would still be in school with the rest of us, as opposed to taking a semester off to deal with all of the problems that Loki had left behind. Those men I killed, Murmur's men, they would still be alive; because Loki and Murmur would never have met in the first place.

All these people would be fine and alive and healthy and psychologically sound. If I had just been strong enough to make a different call.

These were the words that had been circling in my brain for so long now. But the instant I heard them from Steve's mouth, Steve's voice, the voice of a fellow Avenger… I realized. I had an answer to that. I'd always had an answer to that.

"No," I said. It was unexpectedly strong, surprisingly firm. "No, Steve, you're wrong."

I took a step closer to him, then planted my feet and held my ground. "We beat Fraye because we were stronger than her. _Telepathically_ stronger. Because, in the course of her torture, she had put her mind in mine multiple times. Created a pathway between our minds and hers." I shook my head. "We _beat_ her because we were in total agreement. Because our minds were so resolved on that task that there was nothing that could stop us. Not even her." I looked Steve directly in the eye. "Loki _had_ to make that choice. _Had_ to decide, _for himself,_ that this was what he wanted to do. That this was who he wanted to be. Because if he hadn't, if there had been just the _slightest modicum of doubt…_ Fraye would have torn us both to shreds." I shook my head. For some reason, I felt lighter then I had in ages. As though the dawning of this epiphany had lit the darkest, heaviest corners of my heart and let them struggle free again. Because I'd been right. Those people hadn't died for nothing. The world hadn't _suffered_ for _nothing._ Nine worlds had been _saved_ because of what I'd done, and if I'd done it _any differently,_ it never would have worked.

"We couldn't have _forced_ Loki to fight with us like that. We couldn't have _forced_ him to make the choice we _wanted_ him to make. He had to make it for _himself."_ I found myself almost… laughing, a little. An amazed chuckle, as I recognized these facts once and for all. "Do you know how many times I _told_ Loki how unhappy he'd be with the throne? That he didn't _want_ it? I mean, I flat-out _told_ him that it would be his own personal hell. And he didn't _believe_ me. Not until he had the throne for _himself._ Not until he made that decision for _himself."_

I was standing taller now. Steve was staring at me, wide-eyed.

"I wish those people didn't have to die. I wish I hadn't lied to you, wish I hadn't _needed_ to. But…" And I forced myself to meet his eyes as I sighed, then carried on, "If I had to make that decision again? If I had to do it all over again?" I shrugged. "I wouldn't change a thing. Because I made the right call. The _only_ call."

I placed my hand on Steve's shoulder and lowered my voice. "I wish I could tell you differently. But I don't want to lie to you anymore."

There was a long silence. It took me all of four seconds to realize that Steve was never going to have a response to that. Nonetheless, I waited one out; and when he turned away and gathered his things, I stayed standing where I was.

He headed to the door in silence, and I let him go. And when he left the room, I gave him a few moments before I did the same, heading back to the portal, back to Jotunheim, and feeling stronger then I had in days.

* * *

Loki tried to swallow his heart, which was lodged somewhere in his throat and beating a little too fast. He dared not open his eyes for the longest moment, instead relying on the feeling of my dreams in his mind and his arm around my waist to remind him that I was, indeed, alive.

"Loki…?" I asked, carefully, quietly. I was stirring just slightly; woken by his nightmares. I turned around and placed my hand on his cheek. "Sweetie, open your eyes."

Where had the 'sweetie' come from? Why did it feel right? Ugh, we were such a couple. I pushed the thought from my mind and gently ran my thumb across his prominent cheekbone. "It's all right, Loki," I whispered. "I'm right here."

It took him a few moments before he had the courage to do as I'd asked. But, finally, his vivid ruby eyes flickered open. He looked at me. Watched me.

"It's all right," I promised. "I'm still here."

His heart twisted. He sat up in the bed, gently removing my hand from his face as he did so. He ran his hands down his face exhaustedly. I sat up next to him, feeling groggy, but not willing to leave him alone in this.

 _Still here,_ I found him thinking, bitterly and filled with fear. _And still mortal._

I reached forwards and wrapped my arms around him as carefully as I could, resting my head on his shoulder. "Who wants to live forever?" I asked, a quiet almost-joke. He sighed in my arms, and I could feel the movement, all the way down in his lungs. "Need to talk?"

He contemplated that for a long moment, not answering. Then, carefully, he removed my arms, extricating himself. "Go back to sleep, Frost," he prodded gently. He kissed me on the forehead as he pulled back and carefully lowered himself off of the bed. "I'll… return later."

I scanned his mind, briefly, taking in what he wished for me to take in and ignoring what he wished for me to ignore. Not that it was particularly _'walled up',_ but it just appeared… irrelevant. Once I'd finished, I nodded. "Just make sure you get _some_ sleep?" I asked, a little worried.

"Of course," he answered. As though I wouldn't be able to tell it was a lie. Still concerned, but not wishing to push him any further, I lowered myself back onto the pillows and closed my eyes. Having had a pretty long day before and a long week before that, I was out like a light in seconds.

Loki, on the other hand, remained very wide awake. There were many things to think of, and night was when such thoughts would plague the mind, when memories would haunt and hunt the one who remembered them.

Wandering the halls in the manner of a restless ghost, Loki tried to keep his mind away from the inevitable problem. When that did not work, he tried to think of nothing _but_ the inevitable problem; and what its solution may be.

We had known from the beginning that I was mortal. That there was nothing to change that. We had agreed to 'work it out' in whatever crazed, convoluted way we could. We had, after all, gotten this far: for us to be where we were now would have been considered impossible a few years ago.

And now, it was considered impossible for us to solve the issue of my mortality. So, theoretically, there could still be some solution. Somewhere. After all, if you defied the nature of 'impossible' once…

Loki sighed deeply to himself, a silent sound in the dark, Jotun night, misting in front of his face in a thin cloud. He pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders; it was a cold night. It was… oddly _refreshing,_ to recognize what 'cold' was. Before he and I had been linked, he had not known what it felt like. And, before coming to Jotunheim and spending his life there, he had never felt it for himself. But it sharpened his senses, made his blood race, made him feel… _alive._

And it made his thoughts far clearer as well. He tried to focus that clarity, tried to use it to his advantage. But today… today, his thoughts refused to cooperate. There simply _wasn't_ a solution; none that _he_ was aware of, at least.

Loki stopped in his tracks, realizing only now that the place where he was headed- a jutting, balcony of ice that opened up to the stars above, showing the glittering, magnificent city below- was occupied. Sigil sat on the edge of the crackled ice, leaning back on his hands, his red eyes closed. He took deep, slow breaths, breathing in the quiet and the ice. Clearly a man with nightmares and troubles of his own, to be here in this darkness.

The King did the polite thing and stepped back, tried to turn away. But as he did so, Sigil spoke. His words were filled with a strange, odd authority; a withered power, an ancient tone. "The paths towards nightmares are always paved with scars."

It was an odd musing. Sigil's eyes flickered open and trained on Loki, who watched him, somewhat bemusedly. "Are they not, your majesty?" The mage asked, glancing pointedly at the large, ugly scars across his own bare arms and chest.

Loki took a few slow steps towards the other man, who turned away to look at the stars again. His legs were dangling over the edge of the balcony, which had no railing, no safety. Just a jutting edge of a ruin that stuck out over the once-perfect city. But, even as a shade of its former self, Jotunheim still held an odd, subtle beauty.

And Loki had always been one to notice the subtler things.

"I would not have taken you for a man familiar with nightmares," Loki admitted, then slowly lowered himself into a seat beside the mage. Sigil had not bowed, or even nodded his head; had not stood when the king entered, had shown none of the respect owed to Loki. But the Trickster had long ago learned not to expect him- or his sister- to do such things when there was no one else around to see. They played around with the pleasantries when there were eyes on them: but when the twins and Loki were alone, all formalities were abandoned.

"And what man seems to be familiar with such things in the waking hours?" Sigil asked, smiling slyly. He chuckled once, shaking his head, making the long, flat black ponytail shift around on his back a bit. "Only night tells what men truly are; for night is when men dream. And dreams…" He hesitated. And then, firmly and resolvedly, staring into the night with hard ruby eyes, he concluded, "Dreams often tell _you_ what you are."

Loki considered that. Then, "In my experience, dreams tell you what you fear, not who you are."

"Is there a difference?"

That made Loki fall silent again. The two did not speak for another long moment. Loki found himself rather curious about the mage; after so many months of ruling Jotunheim, he had seen the Twins' influence in a great many things. They had the final say on most things involving magic, they were dangerous if crossed, and you could hardly move in the palace without tripping over them or something they had influence over. And yet, he knew little to nothing about them. What he had gleaned about them had mostly come from his first meeting with them: in which he'd taken note of their power, their short stature, and, of course, the scars. Those scars spoke volumes of the days in which Sigil and Avalon must have been forced to defend their lives, and their right to their power, simply because of their shorter stature…

"But many a night is spent without nightmares," Sigil went on, his voice a quiet whisper that broke Loki out of his thoughts. "And spent instead with darker things. Spent instead in hate."

Loki again considered before responding. "But it seems to me that all hatred is derived first from fear."

Sigil snorted once. "I suppose that much could be true," he admitted, running his fingers down the scars on his arms. He smirked. "So what is it that _you_ hate, your majesty?"

Loki smiled slyly. "Very little," he answered lightly. Sigil smiled back and shook his head, almost chuckling, and Loki turned away. There was a moment's pause before he answered, "Fraye." His eyes turned downcast. "Mortality."

"Your mortality?" Sigil inquired. "Or the Lady Frost's?"

Perceptive little snake. "Certainly not my own," Loki answered with a small sniff. Sigil chuckled.

"I admit: that is something anyone could learn to hate," he said, in a quiet voice. His eyes turned down. Loki looked to him, mildly startled. There was actual… _concern_ in his voice. It was genuine. True. Loki looked away before his surprise could show on his features. He had never thought- _I_ had never thought- that Sigil might think any more or less of me then he thought of anyone: and he thought of everyone as his pawns.

And hadn't the twins practically referred to me as their 'enemy'? Why would he show concern for his soon-to-be-queen now? Why after all of this…?

"But is that not the way of the world?" Sigil asked, a slight bitterness beginning to creep into his voice, swirling beneath the undercurrents of his words. "Physical strength is more valued then mental or magical. A child that is too small is abandoned and left to die in the cold, an intellect lost, while another fool is born into the world and raised with all the love and care that a world of ice can give. Giants are given immortality and flaunt it as their birthright, as though it is something that _they_ personally accomplished, as though it were due to _their_ deeds… and a woman who would save worlds and slay shadows is thought of as lesser, simply for being born as a mortal." He laughed, a bark of a sound, and shook his head. "Shall I tell you what I hate, your majesty? I hate the injustice. I despise those who would call themselves giants." His red eyes flashed as they locked on Loki and narrowed. "Because, in the end… it was they who first hated me."

Loki met those flashing red eyes for a long second. "Hated and feared," he said, in a slow murmur, before turning away. "For the simple crime of surviving."

Loki did not pity Sigil often. He was far too cunning for that, and far too powerful. But on this occasion, he found it somewhere within himself to recall everything that the mage must have been through in his life. Everything that formed the bitter, cruel snake that sat before him now, this serpent in a Jotun's skin… He had been hated for his entire life for something that he could not control. For every beat of his heart and breath in his lungs there was someone who thought that his life was worthless.

And to have the same thing thought of his sister as well… Loki had not always understood the protective instinct; but he knew full well that if anyone had ever thought of his brother in such a way, he would never have tolerated such a thing. But Sigil would have been forced to: he couldn't very well destroy every person on the planet, after all.

"I never did ask," Loki found himself saying. "How, precisely, _did_ you survive?"

Perhaps he was treading on thin ice; but Sigil did not seem overly concerned about the question. The mage turned to the King, and the latter half-shrugged placidly. "Puck was raised on Earth, I was raised by Odin… but you and Avalon? Who was it that saved you, that raised you?"

"Who saved us?" Sigil repeated. And then he laughed again, a bitter little sound that was filled with frozen acid. "Who _raised_ us?" He laughed again, shaking his head. "Not a creature alive wanted us to survive the nights we did, _your majesty._ Our mother, our father… both left us to die in the darkness." He turned away. "No one saved us." His hands clenched, his grip on the ledge on which he sat tightening. "We saved ourselves. We always have."

There was silence again. Loki waited Sigil out patiently; he knew that the mage would speak again, knew that there was more to be said. But if he didn't speak, if nothing _was_ said… well, it was not his place to continue questioning, king or not. A person's past was their past, to speak of or ignore as they so chose, and he more than understood that.

But Sigil _did_ speak again. "Children of such ages are not capable of powerful magic. They are not capable of creating anything to shield themselves from the elements, of suspending themselves so they do not die of starvation, or dehydration. They simply fade away." His red eyes were distant, but hard. "But Avalon and I did. Our magic protected us from the beginning, as it has protected us since." He looked down. "We have always been stronger whenever we are… together."

His eyes narrowed abruptly. "We lasted ten nights in that cold. Ten nights before they realized that the snow had not buried us. That we still lived and breathed. And one Jotun decided that we had proven ourselves worthy of life and took us in. Cared for us, for our parents would not." He spat onto the ground. It fell from the great height to some street far below. "They left us to die, and every day since, we live. We live simply to spite them."

Loki watched Sigil carefully. Studied him. And then he turned away. He could understand such things. He could understand living, simply because there was too much hate inside of you to die. It was not the best way to live. It was difficult, to keep the energy of that hatred. It sucked life out of you even as it pumped your heart and fueled you onwards.

But, sometimes, it was the only way that a person _could_ live. Forced to choose between living with their hatred for those who had done this, or die with the despair at the injustice, the cruelties committed against them… At least hate kept you moving, at the very least it woke you in the morning and drove your footsteps in the day…

"Who was it," Loki asked quietly, "That took you in, then? If not your parents?"

Sigil seemed genuinely startled by this query. He turned to Loki, eyebrows furrowing. "You do not know." He said. It was not a question so much as a realization. Loki shook his head, and Sigil looked away again. "I would have thought you would have been told by now. But then, everyone else sees it as a weakness of his character; and I'm sure it would be difficult to convince you it is the same." Sigil smiled crookedly, a little smugly. After all, the king and the mage were relatively the same height; and it would be hard to tell said king that it was a defamation of character for a man to take in a stunted child.

"It was Steprin," Sigil said after a moment, quietly. "He raised us."

This was, perhaps, the greatest surprise of the night. Sigil and Avalon seemed to resent all who stood higher above them, stood as 'Giants'; and Steprin surpassed even the tallest of these. The Captain of the King's Guard was… silent, when he could be. He spoke only when necessary, with soft words that were simple and direct. Nothing like the circuitous hissing of the Twin snakes. And of course, it was a startling discovery, for it was never mentioned. Never once had Loki heard such a thing about the man; but it made a great deal of sense, now. Loki had always thought Steprin to be the best suited for the position he now had. He seemed clearly more suited then the man who had been in it before him; for he had rewritten everything, had changed the way everything was run. Under his command, the sentries were the perfect fighting force; and Steprin himself was a more than capable fighter. But he hadn't been power hungry enough to take the position directly, to connive and steal for it, or to try and attempt to take a position higher in the Jotun courts.

But Loki had wondered why he had not been in the position, regardless, during Kiross' rule. He was clearly the perfect fit for it. He was clearly the best candidate.

Now, however, it made perfect sense. He had been surpassed for it because his judgment was thought to be unfit. After all, who would take in two children that clearly had no chance for survival? Who, _clearly,_ had no _right_ to survival?

Loki's lip fought to curl into a sneer. For the first time, he found himself bearing a faint sense of ill will towards his predecessor. Kiross had seemed kind enough, reasonable enough; but in the end, he was as biased as the rest of his race. As the rest of the Jotuns that had allowed themselves to become after so many years of supposed superiority. It was a trait that Loki had once shared; and a trait that he now hated.

He quelled his anger quickly, however, forcing himself instead to consider the more practical concerns of this newest discovery. He realized now that Steprin was older then he had first thought; either that, or the twins were far younger.

There was a simple way to discover which one: Loki turned to Sigil and asked, with a puzzled expression, "Precisely how old _are_ you, Sigil?"

The mage looked at him, then away. For once, he appeared slightly… nervous. "Three hundred eighty-nine."

"Three-!" Loki's eyes went wide as he tried-and failed- to repeat the number. "You're just a _child!"_ he exclaimed, losing control of the words.

Sigil gave him the darkest, most hideous of glares. The anger in his eyes was hardly _childlike._ Loki backtracked quickly; Sigil did not need any more patronization then he'd clearly already suffered through in his life. "My apologies," Loki said swiftly, stiffly, with a bit more of a formal tone. His voice lowered. "A child bearing scars such as yours is not a child at all." he didn't allow the sympathy to soften his voice, but he felt it there, anyway. Felt it in his throat and chest. "I doubt you ever were." The words were barely a whisper.

Sigil turned his glare away. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. He certainly did not _look_ so young. He was undoubtedly older than Puck: an 'adult', perhaps… but with Jotun psychology, much of his maturity would have followed more along the lines of a younger man.

If he'd ever had the chance to be 'young' in the first place. Not all age was created by the passing of time.

But Loki found himself gaining a new- and perhaps healthier- respect for the mage. For him to be so young, and in such a high position of power… and all of his magic, all of his ability… it was incredible. He and his sister were already the most powerful mages on the planet; or very nearly. They were simply _born_ with that raw talent; and forced to hone it, forced to work with it, to study magic and make themselves a thousand times more powerful still. In time, with that much talent and that much concentration on making it better…the two could become the strongest mages in the nine realms.

Loki was abruptly grateful that they had been born on _his_ world, and not another's.

"That is an incredible rise in ranks," Loki said after a brief moment. "Rather impressive," he admitted, with grudging respect.

Sigil looked down. "It was easier with Kiross than it was with Laufey," he admitted. "Kiross… understood the need for mages. For magic itself. Laufey…" He trailed off. Loki did not need him to finish. He _did_ need something to explain the strange, sudden ripped, painful feeling behind his ribcage. It didn't make sense.

 _So my father and I were really nothing alike._

Loki pushed the thought aside before it could cause more pinching, twisting pain. "Preferred brute strength?" Loki ventured a guess. Sigil nodded twice. Loki nodded a few times in turn, slowly. They were quiet for a long time, silent and still, watching the empty, dark, cold night.

They stayed that way for a while; minutes, hours, who knew? The darkness swallowed all, the cold freezing time itself.

"I admit to not liking you," Loki said at last. "I hardly even _trust_ you. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that I do _not_ trust you. But…" He paused. "You have earned the places and positions that you have: you and your sister both. And I am not my father: I value magical strength very highly. And so whatever the rest of the planet may say about you and your worth… you have earned your places here: from now, until the end of my reign; whatever length of time that will be."

Sigil gave him a sly, crooked smile, a twisted light shining in his eyes. "Nicest thing anyone's ever said about us, your majesty."

Loki wasn't fooled by the brash façade; and he suspected that, through the irony that soaked them, these words were actual truth. The King stood. "You have a home here, if you wish it," he said breezily, then turned away and started walking. Sigil remained where he was, still silently watching the stars.

The Trickster walked through the hallways, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he'd had with Sigil, and with the still lingering worries of my mortality. Nothing had been solved, nothing had been discussed, and nothing ever _would_ be. This wasn't an issue that _could_ be solved. None of this _could_ be worked out.

"Your majesty?"

Loki didn't exactly 'jump', so much as whirl on the speaker with his hand coated in ice. Immediate revulsion went through him as he realized who he had almost struck down, who he had almost hurt: Puck. The very idea of injuring him- even accidentally- was almost… repulsive.

When he'd first met the slave, this would have frightened him, that he would be so… _attached_ , so quickly. Now, however, he had resigned himself to it.

Loki lowered his hand, allowing the ice to dissipate. He stood a fraction taller. "What is it, Puck?" he asked, his voice a little harsher than he'd intended it to be. The Half-Breed cringed away from the words, and Loki forced his racing heart to slow. Forced himself to keep his temper in check.

"I…" Puck stuttered. "I…"

There was an odd look in the boy's eye; as though there was something that he desperately wanted to say, some secret knowledge that he wanted to confide in Loki… but after a moment, that disappeared, and Puck said, "You… often wander the palace at night. I just…wanted to be certain that there was nothing you needed."

Loki sighed through his nose. "Puck, please," he said, somewhat exasperatedly. "Spare me the trouble of having to tell you that you are lying, and the time it takes to pry your true motives out of you. Just tell me what it is that you want."

Puck's sad, wry, 'fair-enough' expression was more than enough to tell Loki that he had been right about a conflict of motives. Puck looked down, studying the ground, appearing nervous, antsy. He shuffled his feet, briefly, and twisted his hands before blurting out, "You don't trust me, do you?"

Loki, though taken aback by the Half-Breed's bluntness, did not react, save for the lift of one eyebrow.

"And what makes you ask that?" Loki asked, with all the smooth casualness that would make even the most resolved man doubt his convictions. Clearly, however, it did not make Puck doubt his belief of Loki's distrust.

"Because you don't teach me offensive magic," Puck answered, oddly firm. "And because every night that you spend awake, you always pace by my door at least once or twice. And, when I'm not there… you find me. Every night." He looked down. "I pretended not to notice, but…"

"No."

Puck looked up to Loki. The Trickster's face remained stony. "No, Puck. I do not trust you. I never have. As things appear, I never will."

The Half-Breed's eyes tightened. But Loki lifted his head, his chin sticking out just a fraction. The boy had asked the question. It was his own fault if he was hurt by the honest answer. But Loki found that he did not wish to lie to him; that the very idea was… abhorrent. No, no that was not quite accurate: it seemed more as though it would have been… _irrelevant,_ if he decided to lie to Puck. As though the former slave would have been able to inherently _know_ that Loki was lying. Best to remain truthful. Honest.

"And the Lady Frost?" Puck did not seem able to keep himself from asking.

"Wishes that she could trust you," Loki answered curtly. Puck's eyes became a little tighter. He looked down.

"I see."

"Does this surprise you?" Loki asked, in a quiet, dull tone. Puck rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, somewhat awkwardly. And then he sighed.

"No."

Loki's other eyebrow went up.

"Quite frankly… No one trusts me. Not since I arrived on Jotunheim."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "If you think that my reasoning for distrusting you is because of your human heritage, understand now that this is not the case."

"No, of course not," Puck agreed swiftly, shaking his head, as though Loki's words were an irksome insect, easily cleared away by the movement. Loki looked at the Half-Breed for a long time, considering his quick dismissal of the idea. He must have at least _considered_ such a thing, at some point; but why did he act as though it was… impossible?

"Do you… _know_ why I do not trust you Puck?" Loki's head tilted an inch to the side.

Puck's eyes flicked to the ground. "I think, your majesty, the better question would be…" he looked up to Loki again. His eyes were soft and strangely melancholic. "Why do you trust me, when you are attempting not to?"

Loki stiffened. He had not spoken of this to anyone besides me; and certainly never, _never_ to _Puck_. His eyes narrowed into thin slits. "What have you done to us, half-breed?" he asked, his tone flat but still filled with hidden shadows.

"Nothing, your majesty." Puck answered. There was a lonely sincerity on his face. "It is… my nature. What you trust… is simply what I am."

Loki's eyes narrowed even further. "So you do know."

"Aye."

Loki took a step towards Puck. "Then _why?_ " He demanded. " _Why_ do we wish to trust you? This… _influence_ that you have, what is it?"

Puck smiled. It was a sad little gesture. "I wish that I could tell you." His eyes fell to the ground again. "But knowing a truth, and knowing how to tell it… are two very different things."

Loki glowered at the man, then turned his glare away. "Then what use are you to me?" he asked, his words cold as ice… but they burned his throat as they came out. How could he say such things? How could he speak such monstrous words? Of course Puck wasn't… _useless;_ he was _Puck._ He was…

Was…

Loki couldn't think of the word. He was turning and walking away, his head hurting worse than ever, when Puck's quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

"I suspect," the half-breed said, "That I am of more use then you realize, your majesty." There was a breath of a pause. Loki stopped in his tracks, but he did not turn. Did not face the former slave. "I may not be able to tell you what I am, or why you trust me. But I can tell you one thing: every problem has a solution."

There was a pause. Loki could have sworn that Puck's voice was right beside him, right in his ear, as he concluded, "Even Natalie Frost's mortality."

But when Loki whirled around, his eyes wide, Puck was gone. Loki caught sight of his foot disappearing around the corner, and immediately he went after him.

He rounded the corner only a few moments later, but it was too late. His apprentice was gone.

Loki swallowed. Puck was gone, it was true, but where would he disappear to? He could hardly leave the palace. And he would return to Loki's side soon enough.

His hands clenched as a new resolve flared inside of him: when he found Puck again, he would know what the half-breed meant. He would solve this problem once and for all.

It wasn't until, still searching for the half-breed, Loki found himself alone that he realized. Whatever the boy's intent in saying these things… Loki had a new resolve to discover the solution to aforementioned mortality problem. And, above all, a new hope that it _could_ be solved.

How the Half-Breed's words had achieved this, however, was a mystery: and would remain so for a very long time.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Vicky was saying as she, Jade, and Benjamin waited with Tiff and I on one of the benches near the parking lot of our college campus. We were all eagerly- or, in my case, not so eagerly- awaiting the arrival of one Tony Stark. I was almost mortally terrified of the entrance he would make. "Your class gets an assignment where you get to look up pictures and information on the _hottest guys on the planet,_ dream about what you _think_ they might be like… and I'm still stuck doing freaking _statistics?"_

"That is the general gist, yes," Tiff answered, grinning.

"Gorgeous though he may be," I filled in, "Tony Stark is a jerk to end all jerks. Believe me: I spent a few months with the guy, and I already wanted to kill him."

"And yet," Benjamin pointed out, "You kept in touch."

There seemed to be an almost ominous edge to this assumption; but I blew it off as my own paranoia. Why would Benny care if I kept in touch with Iron Man? I thought of an excuse quickly, though it was one that I didn't particularly like telling. "Yeah, well," I flipped my hair back, a little nervously, eyes flicking to the concrete ground. "He knew April. He was there at around the time when she… you know."

Silence claimed our little group for a moment. Neither Vicky nor Tiff had known April, but Benny and Jade had. And even if she was more my friend then she was theirs, she was still their friend regardless.

"Right," Jade said, looking down.

"Who…?" Vicky tried tentatively, then seemed to realize that it was a sore subject and tried to back away. Benny told her anyway.

"She was an old friend of ours," he said. "She… killed herself, a few years ago."

Vicky sucked in a breath as Tiff looked away. She'd already known what had happened to April- since we had discussed what had happened to her during Loki's reign, the two of us had told each other pretty much everything, though I kept it limited to the human side of my life- but it was still a moment that she did not particularly belong in. She hadn't known April, even if she had heard of her.

"Tony knew her," I said, shrugging a little while keeping my hands closed on the edge of the bench. "We talked a bit about it. Every so often one of us will call the other and we'll get some coffee or something. And he said I'm pretty much always welcome at the Tower, so…" I shrugged.

"Well, we're going to ace this report because of him," Tiff said, nudging me in the shoulder as she gently navigated the subject back in a healthier direction. I gave her a swift grin, letting her know that I was happy for that little push in this direction, and I nodded.

"Easy as pie," I agreed. "Basically, he's a got chronic asshole-itis; but everyone puts up with it because he can build advanced weaponry out of some tin cans and a paper clip. We diagnose him with a narcissistic personality disorder and our paper is finished in three minutes flat."

"Sounds cool," Tiff replied.

The conversation changed a few times before I caught sight of the inevitable: a car that was way too nice to be in the parking lot of a college campus. Everyone who was meandering around immediately seemed on high alert, sensors up and radar active. There was a celebrity in their midst now; and anyone who didn't know it before Tony Stark got out of the car knew it soon afterwards.

He pulled up alongside us in a brilliantly vivid red convertible, the top down so that his hair was perfectly windswept. He wore sunglasses and a nice silver-grey jacket and black shirt; but no tie, as though he didn't want anything covering the brilliant circle of pale blue light in the center of his chest. Some girls liked that kind of cyborg look, I guess.

 _Well,_ I thought to myself, _**you're**_ _marrying an alien. Judging people really shouldn't be your thing._

I bit my tongue to keep from snorting. I headed towards the car, but Tony was faster: deftly, he maneuvered himself out of the car and in front of myself and my friends, pulling his sunglasses off and running his fingers through his hair as though attempting to repair what the wind had done. He only succeeded in making it look even more untidy, and I knew that was his plan all along. As he tucked his sunglasses into his pocket, I saw a little shine in his eye that I most certainly did not like; though his smile was open and friendly.

 _Too_ open and friendly.

"Natalie," He said, greeting me with a tone that was typically reserved for someone you haven't seen in a few months. He clasped my hand warmly in two of his, and I followed along with the act: we had decided that, so long as no one here had followed me home and seen me going to Stark Tower almost every day for the past few months, it would be more readily believed that we hadn't seen each other in a while.

Tony pulled me a little closer in the handshake as I reached forward to wrap one arm around him. "Tony Stark," I greeted in turn, and despite my earlier bashing of the guy, I was smiling. Everyone here knew that bashing people was my way of showing affection, so they wouldn't be too surprised that I did, indeed, genuinely like him. "It's good to see you again," I said, because it seemed like something you'd say after not seeing each other for a while.

"And you," he agreed, pulling back out of the hug. He looked to my friends, who were all standing around and trying really, _really_ hard not to stare. "So," he said, eyes dancing. He did a quick eeine-meenie-miney-mo with his index finger between all of the girls, and it finally landed on Vicky. "Tiff?" He guessed.

"Vicky," I corrected. " _That's_ Tiff," I gestured to her, and she saluted with two fingers, leaning casually against the school behind her. She seemed entirely unimpressed, and was even smirking at my celebrity friend. Vicky seemed to be trying to switch to 'flirt' mode but was failing miserably due to nerves. "And this is Jade and Benny." I added, gesturing to the other two.

Stark shook hands with everyone, to which Vicky immediately had that glowy, _never-washing-this-hand-again-as-long-as-I-live_ look on her face. He turned to me. "Benny. How do I know that name?"

I rolled my eyes. "It was indirectly his fault that you learned about my boyfriend," I explained.

"It was?" Benny asked, startled.

"Well, technically, it was Uncle Kevin's fault," I added, looking to him. "But yes. Indirectly yours."

Tony seemed to be trying to remember. After a moment, however, he got it: and his eyes lit up. "Oh, yes," he said, grinning. "I remember that."

I shot him a dirty look. "I'm sure you do," I said coldly. In truth, Tony had learned no such thing about me having a boyfriend at the time: rather, he had learned about the fact that I could _never_ have one. He had thought it hilarious, at first, that I could not fall in love for the sake of Loki not having to feel the same emotions. But, when it had been revealed to him that this meant that neither of us could ever fall in love or have a family, he had eventually backed off.

Of course, we had solved that problem now. So it was back to being simply 'funny' to Stark again.

"Right," I said, maneuvering Tony towards the car again. "Well, we have a paper to write, so if you'll all excuse us…" I started pushing Stark towards the car as he began to protest. Tiff grinned and slid into the back of the car with grace and ease, still seeming very casual and unimpressed. I claimed shotgun once I got Tony in the driver's seat.

"Nice meeting you all!" Stark said, tipping a wink towards Vicky as he started the car up again. Going for the weakest of us. She seemed about ready to pass out, and I was grateful for her health that Stark pulled away when he did.

"I admit," Tiff said, kicking her feet up a bit and closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the seat's headrest. "I was actually thinking that he wouldn't show."

"I admit to thinking the same thing," I answered. She snickered.

"Nice to meetcha, Tony Stark."

"And you." Stark's eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, and I saw him scanning her quickly. I leaned a little closer to him and brought my voice down to a low murmur.

"If you try anything, I will rip out your throat."

"If you try anything," Tiff's voice was suddenly right beside me, and I turned to see her similarly whispering in Stark's ear from her seat in the back. "She won't get the chance too." And she smiled with all of her pretty white teeth.

Tony first glanced back to Tiff, then to me. "I like her," he said.

"Knew you would," I muttered under my breath, sitting back in my seat. Leaning my elbow on the car door and propping my chin in my hands, I sighed out the words, "This is going to be a very long day."

* * *

"And these are the gyms- very important, when you're a superhero, keeping in shape."

Tony did not need to take Tiff on a tour of the Tower for our report. But he seemed inclined to do so anyway; which meant that I had been dragged along the entire time. I was starting to get more than a little tired and, when we made our next stop in the kitchen, I raided his fridge and wouldn't hear a word of complaint. Tiff helped.

"I haven't eaten all day," She said, giving him puppy dog eyes. "Is it all right if I…?" She trailed off and studied her shoes, twirling a little bit of her red-brown hair on her finger. Acting way too innocent for it to be genuine; I grinned as I tried to hide my face behind the refrigerator door.

"Oh, of course!" Tony said boisterously. "Knock yourself out, Tiff… but Pizza Girl, you get your head out of my ice box!"

"Make me, Toaster Face!"

"Now, children," Tiff scolded, opening the fridge door a little wider and poking around for something she liked the look of. "If you don't stop calling each other names, I'll send you both off to bed without supper."

Which of course only made us become even more juvenile. "Booger Breath," Tony grumbled at me as Tiff closed the fridge door behind her, opening the cupboard instead.

"Zit Face," I shot back.

This continued in an ever-increasing spiral of immaturity until Tiff got a box of Pop Tarts and Tony was forced to step in.

"Ahh… sorry, those are probably a bad idea," he said, plucking them out of her hand quickly. "I'm almost out, and a… _certain someone_ gets cranky when he's hungry."

My eyes widened. As Tiff shrugged and turned back to the cupboard, undaunted by the refusal of her first acquisition, I pulled Tony aside.

"Since when was Thor back on Earth?" I demanded, lowering my voice to a whisper so that she would not hear, keeping the conversation between just the two of us.

"He's not."

"Please, you had three boxes last time I checked; and that was a maximum of two days ago. You don't like Pop Tarts that much and I can't really see Steve or the spies eating them all the time. Ergo, Captain Hammer is back. Since when?"

"He's not _'back'_ ," Tony answered, lowering his voice a little more as Tiff closed the cupboard and opened the fridge again. "He's been popping in every so often to talk to S.H.I.E.L.D. Apparently, with his coronation happening… they're discussing an allia-" He shut up abruptly. "No. No, you know what, this is politics, I can't talk with _you_ about this, it's…"

"Thor wants an alliance with Earth?" I asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"I never said anything. You can't prove it. JARVIS works for me, he won't prove it for you."

"No, Tony, that's great!" I said, the volume of my voice rising just a little. I quickly brought it back down as Tiff turned to us and asked, "You know what, can I just make a sandwich?"

"Go ahead!" Stark called back, before turning to me again. We were still talking in fast, hushed whispers. "Great?" He asked.

"Yes!" I answered, nodding quickly. "Jotunheim wants an alliance with Asgard. Asgard wants an alliance with Earth. If those two things happen, then the next logical step would be a union of all three worlds: and with me and Loki getting married, a strengthening of the relations about to pass, that could seal it for all of us!"

Tony looked at me dubiously. "You think Earth would go for it? I mean, we don't exactly have one government across the entire planet, here. A lot of countries might be way too pissed off at Loki to keep up with any kind of alliance with Jotunheim."

"Would _you_ say no to a bunch of Frost Giants?"

"Point taken."

"If we can get all three worlds tied together, there wouldn't be a lot that could stop us," I said, warming up to the idea quite quickly. "We could easily become one of the most powerful forces in the universe. _Easily._ With the armies of Jotunheim and Asgard allied, with the Earth's armies _and_ its Avengers…" I started grinning like a loon. I was still doing so as Tiff finished making her sandwich and started putting the ingredients away.

" _If_ it works," Tony said in a warning tone.

"Right," I answered. "If."

We fell silent and spoke of it no more as Tiff put everything away and fell into step beside us, sandwich in hand. "So, shall we continue the tour?" She asked, taking a bite.

"We shall!" Tony announced boisterously, turning on one heel in a very dramatic fashion and moving on. I rolled my eyes, and Tiff and I shared a small smirk before we carried on through the rooms, past floor after floor of… _stuff._

Tiff had finished her sandwich before we got through most of them; and we were almost at the top floor when we encountered an… unexpected problem. Namely, Natasha.

She blinked at us, looking up from her work. She swiftly-if-subtly closed the files in front of her, eyes sharpening into steel as she saw Tony, Tiff and I. "Stark," She said coolly. "You did not say you had visitors."

"You didn't," Tiff agreed, looking to Stark. He laughed nervously.

"Ah, sorry about that, ladies. Slipped my mind." He turned to Tiff. "This is Natasha, the-"

"Black Widow," Tiff filled in. She looked back to Natasha and then quickly to the ground. "It's… wow, it's an honor to meet you. I'm a big fan."

That made sense to me. Tiff would easily be a bigger fan of Natasha than she ever would have been of Stark. She and Natasha had a lot more in common: plus, Natasha didn't feel the need to plaster her personal business everywhere like Stark did. In fact, before the whole 'Chitauri' incident… no one had even known her name. At least, no one in non-spy circles. She was a more silent, unsung hero. And yet, still kickass; even without any 'powers'.

Natasha looked back at Tiff coldly. "Tiff, yes?" She nodded quickly, and Natasha looked to me. I shuffled on my feet and looked down, rubbing the back of my neck, as though somewhat intimidated. It would give her the general idea on our story: that I didn't know her well. I even scooted a little closer to Tony, hiding a bit behind him, so that it would be made clearer that it was he who was supposed to be my only contact among the Avengers.

Natasha sighed and nodded a few times. "Yes, Stark actually did mention something about you," She said breezily. Giving Tony a mild glare, she swept her things together and stacked them, placing them back on the table and giving us all an unreadable look.

"Right. This is awkward." Tony said flatly. "Moving on!"

And he did just that, walking past Natasha with Tiff and I in tow. She lingered, saying, "I… I really am a big fan."

Natasha looked at her with icicles in her eyes. Tiff swallowed as I went out of the room. My friend still hovered in the doorway, looking at the Black Widow, looking for a moment as though she wanted to say something… I smiled to myself and turned away, giving her a few seconds of limited privacy. Natasha had seemed a bit… _hostile,_ more so than I would have thought, but maybe she'd be kind and say _something_ that wasn't… assassin-like.

As Tony and I exited, and Tiff remained behind… her face suddenly changed. It was an abrupt transition, from nervous fan meeting their hero and into something else. Something… other. Her eyes became cold. Her face empty and blank.

Natasha's face was much the same, remaining as it had been from the moment that she saw Tiff. Her eyes, however, were sparking dangerously, flashing in fury, and she stood abruptly.

Tiff moved into the room, a little further away from the doorframe and a little closer to the Black Widow. Natasha stepped forwards, towards Tiff, and in a swift, sudden move, gripped the other woman by the collar and flung her against the wall, one arm holding her pinned there. There was an unyielding ire in her eyes.

"I'm doing what's best by her," Tiff said, her voice a monotone.

"What's best?" Natasha demanded, her words flat and toneless. Without heart or danger, these words were perhaps more terrifying in that tone and at that quiet volume then they ever could have been in a rage-induced shout. "You're going to destroy her."

She released Tiff and turned away, eyes still crackling. "What happens to you after that is on your own head."

"She wouldn't do anything to me," Tiff said coolly. "We're friends. She would never hurt a friend."

"There's a lot she's done that she never would have."

There was a beat of silence. Then, Tiff asked, "You're not going to get in my way, are you?"

"Not unless I have to."

"And who decides when you have to?"

Natasha's eyes burned as she looked back at Tiff over her shoulder. "Whoever has to."

Tiff looked at her for a long moment. And then she turned back to the door and ran out, calling, "Natalie! Wait up!"

I turned back to see her running towards me, and I grinned. "She say anything?"

"Nah." She looked down, embarrassed. "I just… wow. That was freaky."

I laughed quietly. "Yeah, she freaks me out sometimes, too." That wasn't true anymore. But it used to be.

"Never meet your heroes, huh?" She asked, shaking her head.

"Yeah, definitely not," I agreed with a grin. "They're kinda spooky."

She laughed, and the two of us walked on together, following behind Stark.

* * *

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or don't say can and will be used against you in a court of judge-y psych students." I set the legal notepad where all of our questions had been jotted down in front of me. Tony grinned.

"Ask away, nothing to hide."

I knew _that_ wasn't true, but most of our questions were centered around things that didn't involve secret superhero business. Well, okay, they all were. We weren't stupid enough to put in anything that couldn't be answered.

Tiff sat next to me, reading off another set of questions, and we started from there. Tony treated the whole thing like a magazine interview, giving quips in response and kicking back in his chair. It didn't take long- and maybe half of our questions- before Tiff finally settled back and, showing me the notes she'd taken, said, "Think that's enough?"

I compared with my own. "Looks good."

Tony looked up, seeming hurt. "But we were just getting started, come on, ask me about my daddy issues."

Tiff jotted something else down. I snickered at the Iron Man and packed all of my things up, giving him a swift hug as I did so. "Thanks for this, Stark."

"Anything for a friend," He answered cheerily. But I was nervous. Stark wasn't the only one who was going to be judged; and Tiff was one of my best friends these days. I didn't want Stark to judge her too severely. There had been a few awkward moments in the conversation, as there are bound to be when two people first meet, but that had seemed… normal enough.

I just hoped Tony saw it that way.

He drove Tiff home. We discussed the paper on the way and Tiff said she'd type up a rough draft and send it through my email, where I could add/subtract whatever I wanted and fix up whatever needed to be fixed.

I waved to her as she went inside, then turned to Tony.

"All right, Stark." I said, folding my arms. "Give it straight."

"She's a nice kid."

"I said straight."

"Little on the creepy side, Nat."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Creepy? How?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Just creepy."

And that was it. No amount of poking and prodding could get Tony Stark to open up a bit more about his impressions on my newest friend. Annoyed, I finally just went back home to Jotunheim, dropping my backpack on the floor by the portal and heading to the bedroom so that I could bury my face in a pillow.

" _Mrf."_ I mumbled against it, still irritated… and was startled to find that the bed- which I'd barely noticed was unmade- was moving. I frowned, lifting my head up, and a bumpy patch of blanket to my side, where I had assumed there was a pillow, started shifting, until an elongated black-and-brown nose poked its way out from underneath the covers.

"Jekyll?" I demanded. I saw another part of the blanket move as his tail wagged. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Trying to get warm, I'd assume." A voice said behind me. I turned: Puck was standing there with a grin. "I hope you didn't crush the other one."

For a moment, panic that I might have been squishing Hyde made me ignore the fact that Puck was standing in my room. I quickly jumped off the bed and pulled back the blankets: Hyde was lying down on the other side of Jekyll, and as I removed her source of warmth she complained with a loud hiss, swiping at the blanket with her claws until I pulled it back over her. She still had a little kitty-growl in the back of her throat as she was covered again.

Satisfied that my cat was alive, I turned to Puck. I didn't even have to ask for an explanation; he gave it pretty freely. "The King wanted to tell you about this himself, but other things interceded."

I scanned my head. Well, Puck was right about that: Loki was swamped. I chewed on my lip, trying to think of something to fix that, or at least a way to make him feel better when he finally finished for the day. He was my fiancée, that was my job.

"The Twins found a way to allow your pets to survive the cold; an old magic that, quite frankly, they wanted to try, but never had the opportunity. The King mentioned Jekyll and Hyde, and… well, here they are."

I lifted an eyebrow. "They used my puppy as a guinea pig?"

"Well, Hyde wouldn't do it until it worked on Jekyll." Puck answered with a completely straight face. It wasn't until my eyes widened in indignation that he laughed. "They were perfectly safe. The King had one of the Avengers bring them here, and everything went flawlessly. They're fine, now, but they still seem to like the warmer places."

I glanced back to the big lumps in the middle of my bed, and my eyes softened. They were cute when they wanted to be. "Well, that makes sense," I admitted. We were quiet for a moment as I reached forwards and stroked Jekyll through the blanket. His tail wagged again.

"So what was all that about the other night, Puck?" I asked at last, turning to the half-breed. No muss, no fuss, just a simple change of a conversation to something more important. He did not seem all too surprised at the query. He only sighed.

"I wish that I could tell you, m'lady."

"You could," I answered firmly, turning entirely to face him and folding my arms, planting my feet where they were and using my resolve to strengthen my stance. "And, as King, Loki could lock you in the darkest cell in this place until you _did._ "

I didn't really know where the threat came from. I don't even think it was a _threat._ Just a fact of life. These medieval-style monarchs had a lot of power on their own worlds: there needed to be no justification for an arrest or execution, no trial. Just a pissed off royal. Puck clearly recognized that: his eyes were solemn as he looked back at me, even as he smiled in a watery way.

"He could," the king's apprentice agreed. "And any other king _would._ " He shook his head. "But he won't. He's better than that."

And slowly, he turned away. I let him go, biting my lip. He was a puzzle, this half-breed. And even more puzzling still: I still trusted him.

And I still didn't know how to stop.

* * *

Hyde didn't particularly like Loki. He was a stranger to her, he was new, and above all, he did not have the one thing that all humans did that made them redeemable: body heat. So she remained callously neutral to him, washing herself in one corner of the room while Jekyll remained contentedly curled up at his feet. It was a nice little scene: this room had a fireplace with a nice orange blaze going in it, giving everything a homey feel, warm and comfortable and safe, with me, my pets, and my soon-to-be husband all arranged inside. I liked it. A lot.

"Good," Loki said, not necessarily startling me but surprising me nonetheless. I hadn't realized that he was listening in. His voice was a murmur, so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the scene around him. "I want you to be happy here, Frost."

"You're here, I'm happy," I answered easily, honestly.

"You know what I meant," he said, his words still soft-spoken and gentle. He glanced to me over the book of magic he was currently studying in an attempt to find out what was causing the now-third circle of devastation outside of the palace. "You are going to live here for the rest of your life. It is a world outside of your own and a people outside of your own." He gave me a long and intent look. "Some days I wonder if you fully comprehend what I am asking of you."

I rolled my eyes, setting down my pencil and snapping my sketchbook closed. Setting the tray on my lap- and the art supplies on it- aside, I turned in my chair and gave him an intent look of my own. "You're asking me to leave my home world and become the Queen of another planet; meaning that I'd have to move to said planet and do a bunch of crazy royal crap, for a bunch of Giants who may respect me because I'm a Shadowslayer, but then again may not because I'm a human. Sound about right?"

He frowned, and I rolled my eyes, turning away. "You really need to stop worrying about me, honey," I said with a twinge of sarcasm. "You've got enough on your plate without constantly concerning yourself over my happiness. You're gonna get grey hairs."

He snorted. It wasn't _his_ old age that we were worried about.

And suddenly, that thought struck me like a ton of bricks. My hands fell limp in my lap. Loki was going to be my husband. We were going to be together for the rest of my life. And while I'd always known that it would not be the rest of _his,_ it was suddenly a very disturbing fact to remember: he was going to remain like this for as long as I lived. I'd go grey and get wrinkles and wither away into nothingness and he… he'd stay like this. No growing old together. No shared freak out over a grey hair or a new wrinkle. Nothing. And sure, one day, he would, _eventually_ change… but that would be so many years from now. Long after I was dead and buried.

I swallowed and pushed the thought back. We'd figure something out. We'd gotten this far.

"But what if we don't?" Loki whispered, again following my thoughts and responding to them. I looked up at him, and saw the worry in his eyes. The ever-lingering, ever-present anxiety. "What if…" He hesitated, then followed through with his words, "What if the only way to ensure that we are never separated again is for me to-"

My hands clenched the armrest as I cut him off, whispering flames: "No."

Irritation danced across his features before he smoothed them into neutrality once again. "It is a valid solution, Frost."

"I said no before, Loki. Do not make me say it again."

Loki's lips mashed together into a hard, thin line as I turned away, watching the flames in the fireplace, orange and crackling and alive.

"I always knew that you were a stubborn, headstrong human," Loki said, his words slow and dangerous. "But I always believed that even _your_ blind obstinacy would have to give way to _reason_ on occasion."

"Reason?" I demanded, my voice rising just a touch. _"Reason?_ What _reason_? What _possible_ reason could you giving up your magic and becoming _mortal_ have? You'd never be able to keep the throne, you wouldn't have the _strength_ to fight for it, to hold it or defend it from outside threats! And your magic is a part of your _blood,_ Loki, I'm not expecting-"

"It is not _about_ what you are 'expecting' from me," Loki told me in a growl. "It is what I will and will not _do._ "

"Oh yeah? Well, let me tell you what _I_ will not _do._ I will _not_ let you throw away the life you've built just for the sake of dying alongside me!"

Loki was suddenly on his feet, standing, towering above me. His voice was a shout. "And _I_ will not _live without you again!"_

The words themselves held far less impact than the feelings behind them; the agony, the loss. The memories of what had been, when Loki and I were split apart and alone, alone in so many ways… Loki had not meant to show them to me, had not meant to throw them in my direction, but I felt those memories regardless. Those times as he remembered them. While I had been tortured and he had been wearing the Shadow's Crown, wandering the halls of his own palace in the manner of a ghost; and with no one but other ghosts to keep him company. No one but ghosts to speak with, to talk to, to relate with and speak of the old times. The phantom voice of JARVIS, speaking through the wreck of the building. The Ghost of April Blackthorn.

It took Loki a moment to bring himself back in check. Letting out a disgusted sound, he turned away… and then sighed very heavily, trying to force his anger aside with limited success. He was just so… tired. He was utterly exhausted. The crown on his head wearied him, and after so long of keeping himself entirely focused on his duties of the throne, after so long of running away and throwing himself into this work so that he could avoid looking back at what had occurred and what he had done to set that chain of events in motion… well, after so long of this, he found it very difficult to speak of such things without everything escalating into an argument.

I allowed my eyes to soften. Loki only really lashed out like that when he was too tired to keep up a cold exterior; or when he was too frightened to. In either case, it would do neither of us any good to continue this conversation; or any others along the same vein.

So I banished the lingering worries, the remaining anger. I stuffed it aside and forced it to dissipate, evaporate. I stood- a little more carefully than he had, for when he'd stood it had disturbed Jekyll at his feet, and the mutt had moved on to my feet before I now stood and did my best to not trip over him- and I walked towards Loki. I carefully went up behind him and ran my hand across his shoulders, squeezing one shoulder carefully as I wrapped the other arm around his waist.

"Hey…" I said quietly, gently. "It'll be okay."

"I fail to see how," he replied bitterly. I fell silent for a while, which he seemed to think meant that he had won, for he shut up in turn for a few moments while I thought.

Finally, I decided. "That's it," I said, slipping my arms away from him and holding him out at arm's length, maneuvering myself so that I was-relatively- within his line of sight. "That's it," I repeated. "I'm getting you out of here. Out of the palace for a day or two. We can go explore the planet, or go back to Earth, or do something else, I literally don't care, but _you_ need a vacation."

"I have only had the throne for a few months," Loki replied, sniffing distastefully. "I am hardly a king if I-"

"See, that's your problem. You think everyone is going to freak out and revolt if you take a day off for yourself." I put a hand on my hip and planted my feet resolutely. "And you _need_ a day off, or you're gonna end up cracking. Given the fact that you were fighting off the stuff of legends not too long ago, I'm pretty sure that your subjects will understand that."

He frowned, but he did not protest again. I started to warm up to the idea a little bit more as I began thinking of places that I could take Loki in order to get him out of the castle. "We could go on a date. Like a proper couple." I snickered. "Have a picnic on Jotunheim. That'd be fun."

He gave me a sour look. I lifted an eyebrow in turn, keeping my face innocent. "Well, we can't exactly go to the movies," I pointed out.

His scowl grew more pronounced. But the guy _had_ made himself kind of infamous on Earth; and while there was a very good possibility that he could wander around a lot of places without being recognized at all (since he had mostly remained in the Tower/his palace during his rule, and what photos and stuff that was taken of him during that time was now either really grainy and fuzzy or entirely classified by S.H.I.E.L.D.) it was also very possible that he would be sighted. And then the whole world would know the truth: that Loki Laufeyson was not dead after all. And S.H.I.E.L.D. would have my hide.

"But we _should_ go out, go on a walk, go somewhere, do some… _couple_ things," I went on, toying with my hair and still hanging on his shoulder. He tolerated it, putting on his best long-suffering look to lighten the mood. It was his way of silently apologizing for losing his cool a little. I didn't really need him to apologize for it out loud. "We've been 'together' for a few months, we're _engaged,_ and we haven't even gone on a first date! I think we're doing things very backwards," I added primly, matter-of-factly. Loki sighed with much theatricality and turned to face me entirely, which left him still in my hold at about arm's length. I was okay with this.

He looked at me for a moment, opening his mouth to speak… and then he closed it. His face turned pensive. "Is that what you want?" He asked, with a little more seriousness than I had thought the conversation warranted. "What you _really_ want?"

I tilted my head to the side. And then I thought that over. "Huh," I said. "You know, I guess it is." I released him, dropping the chipper, nigh-flirty attitude in a heartbeat and actually considering the idea. I looked back up at him. "I mean… I guess it'd be fun. And we really _have_ been doing this kinda backwards." I shrugged. "Maybe we _should_ do something more like a… _traditional_ couple would. I mean, we _are_ getting married without having ever… gone to dinner, or gotten coffee, or… any of that lovey-dovey hearts and sparkles stuff."

"Well, we did save the world together. A number of worlds, as it happens."

"Yeah, but we do that every Tuesday."

He half-smirked.

I made a decision abruptly, and everything slotted into place in my head. Looking at him, I said, "Tell you what. This Saturday, we pull you off the throne. I'll make it easy on you: we don't have to go anywhere or do anything special. We just gotta get out of the palace and do whatever the crap we feel like doing. No overly-hyped expectations for romance, no discussion of feelings, just you and me, hanging out. One day away from here, vacation and kinda-date all rolled into one. We get out of here, we act like normal people for once- _whatever_ your definition of normal is. We get twenty-four hours. Just twenty-four hours without the burden of the crown. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds as though you have planned it," he agreed without agreeing. But his mind alluded to a little more excitement than his sarcastic reply entailed, a little more agreeability. And, after a moment, he nodded. I grinned.

"Good. See? Progress." I nodded once, simply, then turned away to sit back down. "Isn't that so much better than the constant arguing about things we cannot fix?"

He rolled his eyes, and did not reply.

* * *

The streets of New York were dirty, smelly, and crowded. They were choked full of people going about their daily lives and the smell of exhaust that got in your lungs and stuck to the sides of your throat. The constant bustle of noise became an unceasing, steady drone in your ears at all times, a droning that began to permeate your entire body, spreading through all of your cells. The honking of Taxis, the half-caught conversations of people talking on phones, or the shouting of some unhappy traveler bent on making another traveler just as unhappy as they were. It was polluted, it was overpopulated, and it was disgusting on so many levels.

I loved it to pieces.

All of these things had once repelled me. Now they invited me in. Drew me closer. I had wanted to move away from here and I still did, I was still moving away… but this was my first home, and I had bled for it. I had been tortured and almost killed so that this place, this pollution, and these people would all continue to exist. That made them special to me, made them all very dear to my heart, even if all they did in response was elbow me aside and cuss me out when I didn't move away fast enough. It was my city, my home.

And right now, I walked down that pavement that might as well have had a few speckles of my blood worked into the concrete. Hell, knowing how long I'd lived in this city, it probably did. As I walked, I ate a very large ice cream cone, talking with Thor, who walked beside me.

The Thunderer had an ice cream cone, too, and was demolishing it quite quickly. It was pretty amusing to watch, and I did so frequently, just for a smile or two. He was in Midgardian wear, for the sake of blending in; after all, he was too recognizable in the armor. But once he put on a proper Earth shirt, pants, and pair of sunglasses (which, being Thor, he found to be one of the most flipping amazing things in the universe), and once he started traveling in the crowd… he ended up looking like every other chump who walked along this pavement. Any other chump who would _ever_ walk along this pavement. The ice cream helped him lean towards that image, too.

It wasn't the first time the two of us had done this, but it was the first time in a very, very long time. Like, the-last-time-we'd-done-this-was-before-Fraye-showed-up kind of long. But Thor had taken a break from his royal duties today to visit Jane and, since I'd had to be on Earth for the first half of the morning in order to go through all of my classes, Thor had pretty much just met me at the Tower afterwards, so that we could spend some time with each other before he saw Jane. We had decided on a walk, and here we were.

"So, on top of everything else, Steve's still kinda mad at me," I concluded my side of the conversation, taking a swift bite of ice cream and wincing when the cold hit the back of my teeth. I wondered dimly if that ever happened to Loki, or if he ever got brain freeze, and decided to test the theory when I had the opportunity. "And, you know, I get it, I lied, a whole lotta people died, but what else was I _supposed_ to do, you know? A whole heckuva lot _more_ people could've died if I didn't do what I did, _including_ Soldier Boy."

Thor considered. "And you are certain that Loki would not have fought without first… doing as he did?" This was always a bit of a sensitive subject for the Thunderer, but he was getting pretty good at talking about it a bit more.

"Oh, he would have _fought._ But he wouldn't have _won._ " I tried to keep the ice cream from melting off the sides. It wasn't exactly a hot day- in fact, it was kind of overcast, though I blamed that on the man beside me- but it was still melting pretty fast. After I'd cleared away the drizzling droplets of melted ice cream, I shook my head. "I don't get what his _problem_ is. I _told_ him that, I'm sure he _knows_ that it's true, but he still won't _talk to me."_

Again, Thor contemplated that. He took a massive bite of ice cream, seemingly unaffected by the whole 'cold' thing. He just seemed very thoughtful, his eyes intensely focused on the ground below his feet. After a moment, he said, "Perhaps it is not the lie that he is offended by, but the one who told it to him."

I lifted an eyebrow, looking at him. He didn't meet my eyes for a second, and when he did so-glancing to me and catching my gaze- he sighed deeply. "You are his _friend._ Even if you were not his teammate at the time, you and he were still united on the same battlefield, had still known each other for a very long time."

"So you think he's pissed just because I lied to him?" I asked, the other eyebrow going up. I took another swift bite of ice cream and looked forwards. "I doubt it. He works with spies."

"But you are not a spy."

I looked to him again. He gave me a very pointed look in response, then, after a moment, turned away again. We were quiet for a few steps before he spoke up once more.

"When I was young," he told me, "I realized, once, that my brother was a very talented liar. That he could lie to anyone." He was looking at his feet again. "I knew that this included me, but I assumed that meant nothing. I was _young._ I grew up, _knowing_ from the _beginning_ what my brother could make me believe, if he wished. It never concerned me."

Curious as to where this was going, I kept my mouth shut and watched him as he moved onwards. Studying his profile as his forehead creased in concentration.

After a moment, he seemed to find the words to continue; and so he did. "When I first met you, I thought you to be entirely honest. I believed you incapable of treachery. Only years later did I realize that you could speak falsehoods just as easily as you did truths; and that you were more than capable of lying to me.

"I had just lost my brother, Natalie," he added after a quiet moment. His words were a great deal softer now. "I had lost him to lies and deceit. He was imprisoned- perhaps freed for the time, but not forever- and he despised me. I had only then realized how much hatred he had hidden from me. I had only then realized how much hatred it was _possible_ for a person to hide. To learn that you could do the same…?" He hesitated, trailing off… and I saw a strange grief in his pale blue eyes. My features softened. I linked my hand in his and gave it a comforting little squeeze. For the first time, he did not return it, or smile at me; instead, he looked onwards, distantly. "It took me a number of days to remember that, even if you _could_ hide such hatred, you never _would."_ He squeezed my hand now, and released it. "To remember that, even if you could lie, you had no guile inside of you; and thus, no reason for treachery.

"But, for those days, I was… horrified. To think of how easy it was for you to speak falsely … It almost frightened me, to realize such a thing only after a year of knowing you." He looked to me now, his clear, honest eyes on mine. "Perhaps Captain Rogers is merely doing the same. Perhaps he is not upset by the lie itself… but the fact that you told it."

"No, I think he's pretty upset by the lie," I said, wryly, and Thor grinned in response. "I mean, it got him thrown in jail for a couple of months and got a buncha people hurt and killed, so…"

He gently knocked me on the head with the fist that was holding the ice cream cone, and I grinned, shutting up. But then I looked forward and tried to think of his words a little more seriously. Gnawing on my lip for a few moments, I finally asked, "Do you really think that, Thor? That it was… _easy,_ for me to tell you that lie?" I looked to him, stopping in the middle of the crowded streets. It was difficult to hold my ground, but eventually people got the idea and moved around me. Thor did the same, turning to me as well.

"That was…" I swallowed hard, and admitted, "That moment, standing in front of you all and telling you that Loki wouldn't hurt me, when I knew that, in all likelihood, he probably would?" I looked down. "That was one of the most painful moments of my life. One of the most difficult things I have ever done. It wasn't-in _any_ way- _easy."_

"No," Thor agreed. "But you made it seem that way. You pretended it was." His voice lowered. "And perhaps Rogers believed you."

My eyes flicked down. Thor started walking again, and I followed, still keeping my gaze on my shoes. "So he thinks… that maybe I'll just do it again. That, if it suits me, I'll lie to his face and do whatever I want, team or not."

"Won't you?" Thor asked. I was startled by the pure genuineness of those words; words without malice or hostility. It was a simple fact. He didn't resent me for it; he just recognized it.

I finished my ice cream cone and stuffed my hands into my pocket. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I guess I would. If it saved lives."

"But not if it would save your own," Thor said, very, very quietly. I looked to him, eyebrows furrowing as my eyes widened a little, as I began to feel childlike and small. The Thunderer crunched the last of his cone, swallowed, and then sighed, very deeply.

"Perhaps that is also why the Captain is angry," he told me gently. "Because he is frightened of what you would do to yourself, if you could make us believe that you wouldn't."

I looked forwards, blinking against the sudden prickling in my eyes. There weren't any tears; just a burning itch on my eyeballs. "Well, what does he expect me to do?" I demanded. "If it saves other people, of course I'd give myself up again. That's my job."

"It wasn't always," Thor reminded me quietly. "It wasn't back then."

"Well, I always knew!" I snapped. "I always knew that's what I'd do, job or not, because other people deserve to live, okay?"

"And you do not?"

"No!" The word came out before I could stop it. Thor's eyes widened, and he missed a step. I looked away, quickly, before his injured face could make me regret the words too much. I sighed heavily.

"C'mon, Thor," I said, drawing the words out a bit and shuffling forward the next few steps. "We all know that I'm… well, I'm not like everyone else. That I'm…"

"A monster?" Thor asked in a soft whisper. There was a strange ache in the word, and I stopped again, so that I could turn to him. The look of pain on his face almost killed me, and I had to turn away again. He gripped my shoulders carefully. "Natalie, why must you continue to believe yourself so worthless? You are… a wonderful person. You helped my brother come back to his family. You took a prisoner and you placed him on a throne, made him a _king._ You are an Avenger, you saved countless lives and countless worlds, your very name is a legend among thousands of stars…!"

"And if I had, even once, let myself believe that I was worth something?" I asked. "Do you really think that any of those people would still be here? If I hadn't been ready to die for them? If I hadn't thrown my life away like I did? Do you think that _any_ of this would have happened?" I shook my head. "It's like… like my psych teacher said: every super has a reason for what makes them tick, what makes them destroy or save lives. This is mine. Please don't try and take it from me."

Thor's eyes softened even further. "So you can't believe that you are someone… important? That you are… worthy of your own life? Worthy of the titles you hold?"

"No. I can't."

There was a long silence. And then Thor held his head up high and, in his best kingly voice, he announced, "Then, Lady Frost…" he stiffened, holding himself even straighter, his words a solid, iron-clad pronouncement. "I shall have to believe it for you."

I looked to him. Studied him for a long time as he marched forward with the steady resolve and commanding aura of a king. I felt my face soften from its hard, unyielding blankness. I turned forwards.

"Thanks, big guy," I said, very quietly.

He nodded once, and the two of us walked on.

* * *

Loki was in a very sour mood when I got back home. He was waiting for me, sitting in front of the chess board; which immediately got my attention. We only played chess, or other games of strategy/secrecy, when there was something wrong. One of us setting up the chessboard was our relationship equivalency of saying "We need to talk". Not a lot of good tended to happen.

Nonetheless, I set my backpack down and swooped Hyde up from her comfortable position in the middle of the floor so that she could rest on my lap instead. She protested for a moment, but eventually kneaded my pants with her claws and turned around a few times, settling into her place semi-contentedly.

Loki made the first move, sliding a pawn forward two squares before gesturing to me. The motion was strangely harsh, and I found myself moving quickly, feeling rushed and a little worried. What was _his_ damage?

He didn't say. He didn't say _anything,_ for a few moves. I waited patiently, putting on my best Shrink-Face and sitting in my best Shrink-Silence. Finally, result: Loki all but snarled out the words, "And, of course, it was _Thor."_

I blinked. "I'm sorry?" I asked, moving a rook forward. Loki sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, before running one through his still-perfectly-slicked-back hair.

"I've been so… so _focused_ on the future issues, on the… the _practical,_ and the _now… focused_ on your mortality, on the problems with the throne, on… on your _fears_ of _Fraye…"_ he seemed unable to process the words right. I don't think even _he_ was certain about what he wanted to say; which was probably why he'd brought out the chess set. He wanted some time with his own emotions, and no interference from mine. "I entirely… _neglected_ the fact that you still believe yourself worthless. And then Thor…" He glared at the chessboard as he moved a knight forwards. I was surprised; it was a stupid move. Loki never made stupid moves in chess. I took the knight and put him in check.

His hands clenched in fists. And then it clicked. My eyes widened a little.

"Oh, honey," I said, a smile starting to threaten. "Sweetheart…" The words barely concealed the small laugh that tried to break out of me. I stood, moving away from the chessboard and over to the Trickster, crouching in front of him. He looked down at me, his eyes crackling and his lips pulling down at the corners. "You're jealous again, aren't you?"

He scowled. I battled back at the smirk with all of my might, but it was a war that I was fast losing. So I hugged him, quickly, before he could see it.

"Don't sweat it, Loki," I said firmly, kissing him on the cheek. "Thor's doing what Thor's meant to do."

"Thor is doing what _I_ am meant to do."

"Loki, you can't do everything. You can't anticipate everything. And you can't know _exactly_ what to say _all_ of the time." I pulled back, holding him at arm's length. "That's why we have friends in the first place. Because one person can't figure everything out by themselves."

He looked at me for a long time, then sighed heavily. "You are worth more to me than the universe itself. And Thor is the one who-"

"Said that first?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. The smirk refused to hide away now. "Loki, I _know_ how much I'm worth to you. That's what keeps me going. That's what keeps me… alive. If I didn't have you…" I shuffled my feet momentarily, then looked back up to him. "Well, I'd have given up a long time ago." As he still looked frustrated, I added quickly, "And Thor's my big brother, Loki. He'll never be anything for you to be jealous about, _believe_ me."

He kept scowling. I felt for him. He wasn't used to this, wasn't _used_ to the idea of having to care about another person's emotions… well, okay, that wasn't true. I'd forced him to care about me for a very, very long time. But he wasn't used to _wanting_ to care _for_ them. He wasn't used to being in a _relationship._ And sure, he'd been in a few in his life, but not for a very long time, and of course, never like this. Never with his mind so _locked_ with the person he was with. It made certain that there were no secrets; and thus no excuses for not knowing what was going on in your significant other's head.

He wasn't used to having to deal with all of the _small_ stuff, as well as the bigger issues. Which was okay. I hadn't expected him to: but apparently, he had expected _himself_ to. And since _Thor_ had managed to do what _he_ could not…

Well, we all know what _that_ meant.

"C'mon, Loki," I prodded, nudging him carefully. "Thor just did what he's supposed to as a _sibling._ A _friend._ You're _more_ than that, and you _know it."_ I sat on the armrest of his chair, folding my arms and looking to him pointedly. "So don't worry about it. Okay?"

He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a grudging affirmative, still a little upset. I half-smiled. "Good." I kissed the top of his head and moved over to my side of the chess table again. He made a move, and I placed him in checkmate. "Also, I win."

He scowled briefly, then brought his face back into its usual smooth neutrality. There was a moment's silence, which I then took over, changing the subject swiftly. "So. It's almost Saturday." I gave him a little sly smile. "Any more thoughts on what we can actually do during this little 'vacation' of yours?"

He shrugged mildly, trying to shake off the lingering tension and hostility. It took a little while, and during that time, the two of us rearranged the pieces on the chess board. This time, the white pieces went to me, and I made the first move. There were a few more soft, thudding clicks as we moved piece after piece, the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

A small number of moves into the game, Loki finally managed to push aside his irritation enough to go along with my change of subject. "A few," he admitted, moving the black queen. "There are a number of places I wished to see on Jotunheim. More accurately, places that I wished for you to see." As I slid a pawn forwards, the queen took a knight that I hadn't been paying attention to. "They're supposedly very beautiful," he added, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands, looking over them at me.

"Sounds like fun," I answered, infusing cheer and enthusiasm into my voice. "We haven't explored the place enough."

He inclined his head about an inch towards me, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in my words. A few months into being king, and Loki had barely even left the palace. "I have made the arrangements," he added. "We will be able to leave this Saturday."

I nodded in turn and captured a pawn, only to lose a rook two moves later. Well, he was obviously feeling a little better. "Good," I answered, nodding once. "So I'll take care of homework and any Avengers business we might have. I doubt there'll be anything: Murmur's been quiet for a while now, and so far there aren't any new crazy lunatics trying to take over the world yet."

"I somewhat resent that term."

I gave him a flash of a grin and lost the game. I'd lost games much faster than that, though, so I wasn't too upset by it.

We played a few more games, mostly in silence, but when we _did_ talk, we discussed this upcoming Saturday. Tomorrow was Friday, so I was starting to get really excited about the whole thing.

Our game was interrupted by an 'important message for the king', and Loki was forced to go away on duty again. When he looked to me worriedly, I waved him off and told him to go with a smile. I finished off my homework, drew for a little while, then took a bath and headed off to bed.

I tried to stay awake to see Loki come back, burying my nose in a book as Jekyll and Hyde arranged themselves at strategic parts of the bed, placing themselves wherever they thought they would be the most comfortable, and the warmest. But, as I waited up, the hour grew later, the skies grew darker, and my eyelids grew heavier.

By the time Loki arrived, I was dead to the world.

* * *

"Natasha?" I called, knocking on the door. "It's Natalie. Can I come in?"

There was a pause. And then, a click. "It's open," I heard her call back. I opened the door and went inside, both eyebrows lifting as Clint stepped aside. From where he was, it was likely that he had been the one who had unlocked the door. He gave me a little wave as he walked out, his footsteps light and a little too… springy.

Natasha looked at me steadily as I entered the room. "Hello, Frost," she said coolly. Her tone was as even as ever.

"Hey," I said, sitting down in the chair across from hers. "I needed to talk to you about something."

She gestured with one slow sweep of the hand for me to continue. I did so, tugging nervously on my ponytail. "I… It's this whole…" I bit my lip, took a moment to figure out what I wanted to say, and went on. "Okay. Simply put, Loki and I are going out on Saturday. I've taken care of Avengers business, and made sure I won't be missed or anything, so don't worry about that. But…" I sighed heavily, dropping my ponytail and lowering my head. "I haven't had a haircut since I got back from Fraye. I tried, once, and… well, someone was standing behind me with a pair of scissors. You can guess how that turned out."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Anyone injured?"

"None. Almost, though. And I'm sure they thought I was a freak when I bolted outta there like a bat outta hell." I sighed. "It's been more than half a year since I was sent to Fraye; and more than half a year since I got my hair cut. So… yeah, I know it looks awful, and I… kinda wanna fix that."

Natasha smirked, just a little. Her eyes gleamed, a mean kind of humor sparking inside of them. "For your date," she said, clearly amused.

"Yes, Natasha," I said, with my best 'surly-teen-caught-by-her-parent' voice. " _For my date._ "

She chuckled once, quietly. I rolled my eyes and said, "So… How did you do it? How do you manage to… you know. Deal with that?" I looked at her. She had fairly short hair; she must have to have it cut pretty frequently to keep it maintained at that length. Natasha leaned back in her seat, spine pressed against the back of the chair, and considered my question.

"It gets better," She said. "But, for the first few times, I had to only allow someone I trusted to do it." She shrugged. "It's simple enough."

"Simple," I snorted. "But none of the Avengers have exactly gone to beauty school, here. None of them know how to…" I trailed off at Natasha's _oh-really_ look, with just a little bit of a smug superiority lingering on her features.

I sighed deeply. "Is there anything you _can't_ do?" I demanded, allowing only a trace of exasperation to cloud the words.

She smiled blissfully in response.

Rising from her chair with an easy grace, she ordered, "Grab a towel and meet me in the bathroom in three minutes."

And then she headed out of the room. I watched her go, then laughed a little to myself. I'd known Natasha for years now; and she still managed to surprise me.

"My life with spies," I muttered to myself as I stood and searched out a towel.

Natasha met me in the bathroom three minutes later, as promised, setting up a chair and a pair of scissors. She tilted the chair back and propped it against the counter with a strange expertise, sitting me on it, so that it was facing the sink, and so that I could sit in it comfortably with my head inside of that same sink. It took a while, but Natasha managed to wash my hair inside of it, taking her time and working out all of the tangled knots with sure and steady hands. The shampoo smelled like citrus, the conditioner more like berries, the conflicting smells colliding together in a weird fruit smoothie scent that filled the air as Natasha worked the soapy lather into my hair with her fingernails.

I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to relax as she did this, the two of us completely silent. For one of the first times, it was an almost uncomfortable silence. Natasha didn't seem all that bothered by it, but I was. She was a nice person, this master assassin, but… well, this didn't exactly use to be our relationship. Before Fraye, I had liked Natasha, I had wanted to understand her… and now, now I _did_ understand her. And she was… helping _me._ Understanding _me._ Easing me into the transition of this new life, helping me with all of the difficulties and the technicalities and all of the crazy mess of life after torture.

I wanted to… _thank_ her, somehow. But I just couldn't figure out how to do it.

Once Natasha had finished washing my hair, she carefully wrapped the towel around my throat and sat the chair upright again. She ran another towel through my hair for a few moments, so that it wasn't dripping water all over the place, then took a comb and got to work parting it down the middle. We were still completely silent. I couldn't think of anything to say.

Finally, as I opened my mouth to say a simple thank you, she asked, "So do you want it cut short?"

I looked at her, startled. I'd been thinking about that, lately, considering it. It was a good idea, I figured, a way to make sure that my hair didn't get in my way. Sure, it would expose the back of my neck to the cold- which was never a good thing on Jotunheim- but at the same time, it would help keep it out of my way during a fight. Make it so that it was harder for a person to get a hold of it.

Still; I hadn't said anything to _Natasha_ about that consideration. As she saw the look on my face, the surprise and the shock, she half-smiled in the way that only she could. "It's a natural thought process," she told me. "I can do it, if you want."

I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was rather absurdly long these days, but still… I wasn't sure if I was ready to just… chop it all off. I bit my lip and stared at my reflection for a long time, shuffling a bit.

"Maybe… maybe a _little_ shorter than my norm?" I said at last. "Not too much, but…"

She nodded, still half-smiling, and kept combing out my hair. "About here?" She asked, indicating a length somewhere just at my shoulders. I bit my lip a little harder. That was a little _too_ short.

"Little longer," I managed to squeak.

"Here?"

I stared for a long time. It was still pretty short, but… hadn't I wanted that?

But still I stared. "Well, maybe…" I trailed off, looking at the ground. This shouldn't have been such a big deal. But it was. It really, really was.

Natasha's eyes softened in the mirror. "Maybe next time," she said, in a voice that was surprisingly soothing, for the spy. "You've got enough to worry about, what with me holding scissors near your head." She held up said scissors, showing them to me in the mirror. "You don't have to worry about getting a haircut that you'll regret right before going out, too."

I shot her a grateful look in the mirror. "Yeah," I said. "Maybe next time."

She nodded once, a quick gesture, and got to work again. We were quiet once more, the only sound in my ears that of the unmistakable noise of scissor-blades cutting through hair strands. I closed my eyes and tried to even my breathing, to keep it calm and deep and collected.

 _This is Natasha,_ I reminded myself. _You don't have a reason not to trust Natasha._

Well, yeah, I did. She was a spy. An assassin. Probably the last person in the world that I should be trusting. But, in the weirdest of ways, that was _why_ I trusted her. Because I knew that she had no reason to hurt me. And if she had no _reason_ to, why _would_ she?

I trusted that she would only hurt me if there was some gain to be gotten. And even though it was possible that S.H.I.E.L.D. would pay big bucks to have me quietly removed from the equation, that would not fit along with Natasha's personal code, her own set of rules and standards. Ergo, she wouldn't hurt me. _Ergo,_ I could _trust her._

The snipping noise suddenly stopped. With my eyes closed, I had no way of knowing what was going on, when she was going to start again… my heart sped up.

 _Natasha, Natasha, Natasha,_ I repeated in my head. Reminding myself of who was behind me. Of what she meant to me.

"Natalie?"

Her voice didn't make me jump. In fact, it helped reinforce the notion in my mind: that this was, indeed, Natasha, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. My eyes flicked open. "Yeah?"

Her eyes were grim, her face solemn. "Do you think, perhaps, you'd like a few layers?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "Um… no. That's okay."

Natasha met my gaze in the mirror for a long time; a reflected equivalent of staring me down. I felt nervous, shuffling in my chair a little bit, but trying not to do so too much, for fear of the scissors near my head… missing. And then, as I continued to try and read the graveness in her features, it clicked. I swallowed thickly.

"Fraye got it that bad, huh?" I asked, looking down. It wasn't so noticeable with a ponytail, but I knew that my hair had some nasty flaws to it. Split ends. Some uneven patches. Things that I could make to look nicer with up-dos and ponytails and hair gel and other things… but things that I couldn't avoid with my hair at its natural state.

I rubbed my shoulder, my fingers kneading the scars. "It got in her way sometimes," I admitted, keeping my eyes downcast. We were quiet for a while, as Natasha let me work out my issues with this.

Finally, I cleared my throat. "Yeah, sure," I said. "Some layers. Let's try something new."

Natasha nodded once, curtly, and returned to work. It took me a few minutes before I could work up the courage to say, "And… thanks for this."

She blinked. Then, without pause or hesitation, she continued to run the comb through my hair. "Of course, Natalie. What are friends for?"

I smiled a little at that, but the words made me think. I remained silent once again as she steadily worked, keeping my mind distracted from the snipping noises, from the cold metal that was just a few inches away from some very important and vulnerable areas of my body. She worked without the feeling or artsy flare of a lot of hairdressers that I'd seen, but rather with steadfast determination to achieve the right… well, 'look'.

As she did this, I thought. What are friends for? Well, yeah, this kind of crap fit in that category, if your friend happened to be a professional hairdresser. Or a spy.

But the fact that she'd even called me that… called _us_ 'friends'… I mean, I supposed we were. A lot of the Avengers clashed in a lot of ways, and we all had our fights from time to time, but we were, in our own way, the best bunch of friends that you could ever find. You don't fend off the apocalypse (twice) with a bunch of people without becoming friends with them at _some_ point. It was battle that bound us together, battle that forged the bonds we shared.

And Natasha was definitely a part of that battle-forged bond. She was more than that, in some ways; because with what had happened to us both over the years… well, let's just say that I found myself becoming closer to her than a lot of the other Avengers. Except Loki, of course, because Loki was Loki, and Thor, because Thor was my brother. But as far as _humans_ were concerned… the Black Widow was the closest thing I'd had to a best friend since April died.

I knew she probably didn't feel the same. She probably _couldn't._ But I knew that we were… _friends,_ at least. She had said so herself, right?

So maybe…

The words were blurting out of me before I could stop them. Before I could reign them in. "Natasha?"

"Hmm?" She asked, not looking up from her work.

"Will you be my maid of honor?"

For a long few seconds, she didn't react. Her fingers remained holding my hair between them, the scissors still working with careful snips. And then, carefully, she let the hair drop, and set down the scissors on the counter, moving in front of me so that she could turn to face me. "I'm sorry?"

I cringed inwardly. No way to take it back now. "Will you be my maid of honor?" I asked, making myself slow down with the words. To me, it felt like I was speaking underwater, speaking with too much stress and emphasis, taking too much time. But I knew this wasn't the case; because the words were trying to tear out of my throat with so much speed that, if I hadn't forced them to be slower, they would have been unintelligible.

Natasha's lips pinched a little bit, one eyebrow going up as she leaned against the bathroom counter, watching me. I felt the back of my neck prickle and a strange heat in my stomach as my nerves started to get the better of me.

"I mean, you're about the only person I know who has the clearance," I blurted again, the words coming out of my mouth and refusing to be filtered. I cursed to myself as Natasha's other eyebrow pulled up. As though that was the only reason I was asking. "And you're, well, you're part of the team," I said, then cursed inwardly again. 'Part of the team', yeah, and the only other woman _on_ it, besides me. Like I was still asking her because I had no choice. "And- And…"

I _forced_ myself to stop talking, _forced_ myself to shut up for a moment and reevaluate my words. Natasha waited patiently as I ticked through my real reasoning. It only then occurred to me that I didn't have any. That I just legitimately _wanted_ Natasha as my maid of honor. That she really _was_ the best female friend that I had. Not Pepper or Jane or Jade or Vicky or even Tiff. Natasha.

I sighed through my nose and finally just made myself say the words out loud. "And you're my best friend, Natasha," I admitted at last. "I really… I really want you to be there and… and I really want you to help me when I freak out about all the planning and the finality and the… general nuttiness of it all. And, well, we're still working out how it's all going to work with the whole Human-Jotun-Asgardian tradition clash, but… I told Loki that I would probably need a maid of honor. Not _want_ one. _Need_ one. I'll _need_ someone there, my best friend, to help me out, because, even though I know this is the right thing to do, I'll still doubt myself. I'll still drive myself crazy if I don't have someone there, telling me that it's going to be okay. And… And I'd really like that person… to be you."

Natasha didn't respond. Not for a very long time. Her eyes stayed on me, scanning me, summing me up. Her gaze was solemn, her entire body posture conveying a closed-up seriousness. I think I started to sweat. My throat went dry, and I swallowed convulsively, trying to fix it.

Finally, she sighed. It was a deep, heavy, and oddly forlorn sound. Carefully, she reached into her pocket, pulling something out and tossing it in my direction. It glinted in the artificial light as it flew, and I caught it with relative ease.

"If you'll be mine," She answered, as I looked at the small object in my hand. At the gold ring with the small stones embedded all around it; all stones of a soft green hue. They were tiny, all evenly spaced around the ring, a simple but elegant design.

I stared at the ring. Then I stared at Natasha. And then back at the ring. Conflicting feelings of _hell-yes-it-finally-happened_ and _what-the-crap-did-that-seriously-just-happen_ and _what-in-the-what-are-these-two-thinking_ all clashed and mingled around in my head, which started pounding. Half-seconds later, my heart decided to do a little tap-dance in my chest.

I looked up to the Black Widow. My voice was barely a breath as I asked, "Clint?"

She nodded.

"When?"

"Two days ago."

I swallowed tightly. "And you said _yes?_ "

She nodded again.

"So _soon?!"_ I couldn't stop my voice from squeaking a little, itty bitty bit. Natasha sighed very deeply and leaned a little more comfortably against the counter, settling in for what was sure to be a very long discussion. I settled back a touch, too; _this_ was going to be good.

"We've… we've been together since the Battle of Shadows," She confessed. I was mildly surprised, on top of it all, to hear her use the Asgardian/Jotun term for it; but then, she had been around Thor for a while. He would have used the title often enough. "And… since we both returned from our separate missions on Earth. We kept in contact and, when we came back… we spent whatever time we could together. Secret meetings. Mostly at night."

It clicked, then: seeing Clint sneak into Natasha's room. His insistence that they 'weren't doing anything'. He had been telling the truth- I'd always known that he had. He was just… talking to her. The spy equivalent of dating. "Because it's against the rules for agents to… fraternize," I guessed.

"It's… looked down upon," Natasha agreed, her eyes turning away, glancing towards the door. As though she wished to escape; but Natasha Romanoff wouldn't run from her problems. She would face them. Or sneak up behind them. Usually one or the other. "We wanted to be together. Truth be told, we always have. But… we didn't dare." She sighed heavily. "Ours isn't the most stable of lives. To admit that we care for each other is to admit a weakness that we cannot afford."

That was true enough. "So why did you admit it, anyway?"

She smiled ruefully in response. "Fraye," She said. "We did not admit it… and Fraye made it our weakness nonetheless." She sighed, shaking her head just once. "What is the point in having the weakness, if you cannot have the strengths of it as well?"

Strengths? What strengths? Beyond the usual, sappy, I-love-you crap, because when Natasha said 'strengths', she usually meant something a little more… practical. I thought it over. Well, I supposed, the two made a fiercer team together. They were always best as partners and, quite frankly, if they were 'together', I don't think even _I,_ with my indestructible bubble,would want to get in their way. I'd seen what it did to people, when they were trying to protect the people they loved. When they had nothing to hold them back, when they _did_ hold a legitimate claim to the person they were trying to protect, when they _did_ belong to each other. It was a terrifying sight, to try and separate two lovers. Especially those in our world.

"And if you two ever had a falling-out? If you had to stop being together? If you couldn't be partners anymore? What then, Natasha?" I couldn't stop myself from asking these questions. Because they would have been the ones that she had asked herself. The ones that she would have a reason for, or she never would have done this.

"We could never be anything but partners," Natasha answered quietly. "But we could never be _just_ partners, either."

Well. She had me there. That was the truth of the matter, wasn't it? These two needed this. They had _always_ needed this. We'd all known it, we'd all seen it from the beginning. I rubbed my eyes with my index finger and thumb, trying to clear my head.

"But… it's just a little _soon,_ isn't it?" I asked, looking up to her in a last, semi-desperate attempt. I wasn't sure why I was trying to talk her out of this. In fact, I don't think that I was. I was just making sure. Being certain. Because this kind of thing might have been like me, and it might have even been like Loki on occasion, when it _needed_ to be like him… but it wasn't like Clint and it sure as hell was _not_ like Natasha. "You've only been together for a few months-!"

"No," Natasha replied, very soft-spoken. "We have been together for years." She straightened, no longer leaning against the counter, and skewered me with her eyes. "We just didn't know it yet."

And, using Loki's words against me. The same thing that he'd said- albeit changed a bit- when he'd been confronted on how long, precisely, he and I had been a 'couple'. I was finished. It was over for me. There was nothing more I could say.

But Natasha was still speaking. Her eyes traveled down to the ground, now, a little more uncertain, a little less sure. "We knew each other for years, Natalie. We wanted to be together for years. And it took us years to take that first step." Her eyes sharpened as she looked up at me again. "We can't afford to waste any more years. We could die tomorrow. We could die five minutes from now. And we finally know who we want to be when that happens. And… who we want to be _with._ "

I was quiet for a long time. Then, finally, I sighed again. "Yeah," I admitted, running my hands down my face. "Yeah, I get that."

There was a beat of silence. And then, I found one more question. "But what about your _job,_ Natasha? You really think that Clint is just gonna sit by and watch while his wife goes out there and tries to get information out of guys… 'by any means necessary'?" My tone implied a great deal. Natasha's eyes grew a little colder, though I knew that it was an ice that was not directed at me.

"Natalie, S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't used me for those kinds of espionage assignments since the Chitauri incident," She informed me. "Quite frankly, they _can't_ anymore. My cover… is pretty much blown. On a global scale."

Well, that was true, too. You couldn't make a spy out of a celebrity. Wordlessly, I handed the ring back to her, and she took it, putting it back in her pocket.

"It won't be for a while," She added. "We just… wanted to make it official."

I could understand that part, too. After all: I was doing the same thing.

"Well," I said slowly, "I think it's safe to say that I didn't see this coming." I sighed heavily and sat back again. "But congratulations. I'm… really happy for you both."

And I was. I was ecstatic. This was a good thing, a great thing, a _wonderful_ thing. Clint and Natasha, together at last. All was right with the universe.

But, at the same time… everything was changing. And that was downright terrifying.

"So you'll do it?"

I looked to her. "You'll be my maid of honor?" she clarified.

I felt my stomach drop to my toes and my head get a little dizzy. I'd forgotten about that part. "I… Yeah. You be mine, and I'll be yours." I frowned. "Well, technically, one of us will have to be the 'matron' of honor, but still…"

Natasha had been crossing over to me again, scissors in hand, and as I said this, she gently tapped the top of my head with her fingers. "Don't over think it," she cautioned.

"Right. Over thinking is bad."

She chuckled very quietly and resumed work on my hair. We were quiet for an even longer time than before, not saying a word. The silence was long, but no longer quite so uncomfortable, and when I _did_ finally break it, I made sure to do so with only the gentlest of tones.

"Natasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For trusting me with that." I looked forward, into the mirror, staring into my reflection's eyes. "I know you, so I know that you're not telling anyone else. Anyone who's not strictly necessary." I closed my eyes. "So… you can trust me. I won't tell anyone you don't want me to."

"Except Loki," Natasha pointed out.

"You knew that when you told me."

We were quiet again. And then, even gentler than before, I added, "Thank you for trusting _him,_ too."

There was a pause.

Then, "What are friends for?"


	7. Loyalty

**A/N: Okay so I'm planning on updating a lot more frequently? I'm so sorry for the long gap between chapters, but I'm pretty sure I'm back now.**

Saturday. The word rang in my head from the instant I woke up, and it remained stuck there, on a loop, as I got ready. Saturday at last. Loki's little vacation away from the throne. _My_ little vacation away from school, from the Avengers, from the craziness of our lives. Just me and Loki. I was walking on air as I got ready.

Quite frankly, Loki and I hadn't had a few days to ourselves in… forever. Sure, I had weekends off, but usually some other business overrode quality 'us' time. The throne, the Avengers, family issues… it was all hectic and crazy, leaving little in the way for… well, just the two of us.

Which was okay. We understood that, that was just life. But come on, we were a new couple: any time we weren't _right next to each other_ was a time that we _wanted_ to be.

I finished with my makeup- keeping it minimal, but still putting on a _bit_ \- and getting dressed, before slipping a knife into my belt and looking myself over in the mirror. It was a vaguely Jotun look; I'd been leaning towards that ever since I'd gotten to this planet. Plus, we'd be traveling through the city; best for people to see their future queen as one of them, mortal or no.

I lowered the walls to the inside of my head and walked out of the room, humming a little as I walked. But, unfortunately, my good mood was very short lived; Loki met me as I exited, a serious expression on his face, his eyes downcast.

I knew then, that something was wrong. I didn't even have to ask, didn't have to check his thoughts.

"Really?" I demanded. It came out in more of a whine than I'd intended.

He gave me a sad little smile in response. I sighed heavily and slouched against the wall. "Great. You know what, just great." I sighed again and ran one hand down my face. Then, looking up to him, I asked, "So what happened?"

"There was another… incident, regarding those…" Loki hesitated, trying to think of a good term. "Circles," he completed, an image floating in his mind. Those three empty spaces, those circles of… nothingness. Hollow devastation, where everything inside of it had simply… vanished. I chewed on my lip, studying the memory.

"They're getting more frequent," I noted.

"It would appear so."

"Attacks on the palace?" I inquired.

"Unlikely. If anything, they are getting farther away from it with each occurrence." He frowned. "This latest one was more within the city. It has attracted too much attention; the king needs to be seen investigating it for himself."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I said, waving a hand. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed, but yeah, I understood it. This was urgent.

"Next week," he offered, stepping up to me, gently kissing my forehead. And then he turned, breezing over towards the door. He was a few steps away from it when I called him back.

"Wait!"

He turned. "Yes?"

I pulled my hair out of its semi-fancy up-do. Fluffing it out a bit, combing my fingers through it, I pulled it back up in my typical, more business-esque ponytail. It still felt shorter than it should. "This thing, whatever it is, just ruined my day out." I looking myself over, using his eyes, and shrugged out of the prettier jacket, walking to the closet and picking out a sturdier, more sensible one. I threw it over my shoulders as I walked up to Loki, saying, "It's not going to force me to stay here and wait for you for the rest of the day, too. If you're going, I'm going with you."

He didn't exactly _frown,_ per se, but his shoulders did slump just a little as he half-sighed with quiet exasperation. "We don't know what this… _thing_ is, Frost. It could-"

I cut him off, sticking my finger in his face. "If you say that this could be dangerous, I'll knock you out, lock you in here and go by myself. Clear enough?"

The exasperation didn't quite die off of his features; but it was mellowed out by a small smile. He paused, then took a deliberate step backwards. "As you wish," he answered loftily, gesturing to the open door.

I nodded once and marched through. Loki followed almost half a minute later, catching up to me with ease and carefully placing something on my shoulder as we walked. I looked to it; the silver metal armor that he'd gotten specifically for such excursions into the public eye. I stopped walking so that he could lace it up around my arm, and when he'd finished, I linked my hand in his.

"Come on then," I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. "Back to work."

He returned the words with a smirk and the two of us walked onwards.

It was a small party that accompanied us- only Puck, Sile, Fenrir and Steprin- but that was mostly because everyone else was already _at_ the site of the incident. Sigil, Avalon, and a large number of other mages were gathered around the circle of devastation as Loki and I made our way towards it. There was a number of onlookers as well, mostly held at bay by sentries and soldiers, all here to keep the peace and protect the King.

The crowd, which was much larger than I'd expected it to be, was buzzing, a steady thrum of lively whispers and hushed conversation at this curious new magic. We'd been keeping these things under wraps, for the most part; until now. This one was too public, too far in the general eye.

As Loki and I approached the empty space, however, that crowd became hushed. An unnatural quiet fell over it in its entirety. A lot of eyes fell on Loki. But a whole boatload of 'em fell on _me._ Some were curious. Some were awestruck. One or two were hostile, narrowed into glares. But all were watching. Watching me. Watching the king.

The back of my neck started to prickle. I pushed the feeling aside and forced myself to stand with my spine straight, my eyes solemn and my face sincere. I walked directly up to the circle and crouched beside it, leaning in close, keeping my mind on the task at hand, as opposed to the crowds around me. But this was one of the first times they had seen me; indeed, probably the first time most any of them _had._ Not everyone was at the Battle of Shadows, after all. Not everyone was a soldier.

I swallowed as I looked at the circle, as I scanned the ground beneath my feet. The stone and ice surrounding the devastation was charred, melted, or otherwise burnt; the product of some incredible release of energy. But inside of the circle there was… nothing. No dust, no ash, just the empty rock and earth all leveled flat in one space. I swallowed; the feeling in the air was… wrong, somehow. Whatever I was looking at, it shouldn't exist. It should never have existed. It went against all laws of the universe.

I saw now, why this worried Loki so badly; even more than I'd seen it before. Because even Fraye, terrifying as she was, had always felt… _natural._ She was higher on the food chain than I was, perhaps, but she was still a _part_ of it. This… This was something else. Something… other.

Loki was already conversing with the soldiers on the scene. "When did it appear?"

"Early this morning, your majesty," one of them answered curtly. Puck shifted on his feet, swallowing. I was sure he, too, was feeling the strange, unnatural edge in the air. He was always very sensitive in terms of magic.

I frowned at the circle, standing out of my crouch and beginning to pace around its edge, tracing it with my footsteps. I was not questioned, and the soldiers even stood aside to let me pass. I tried not to notice the Shadow Scars on one's face as he looked at me, as he watched me. I tried to keep my eyes on my task, on my work.

"Same as the others?" Loki inquired, bringing down his voice just a little.

"Aye, sir."

He sighed deeply, stepping forwards, gesturing for Puck to do the same. Sigil, already at the site, came up to Loki.

"Anything new?" the Jotun King asked. The mage shook his head tiredly.

"Nothing, your majesty. It is the same as it has always been."

I reached out a hand. I knew from Loki's past experience that it would be safe to touch, but still I was overly cautious, overly wary, as I pressed my fingertips to the stone. It was perfectly flat and smooth, interlaced with similarly flat ice. Whatever had been above it had simply been… removed.

"Anything underneath?" I asked, looking up at Sigil. As my gaze traveled upwards, it passed over a few more watchful eyes, and I tried not to think about it, tried not to think of the dialogue that I was, for lack of a better word, _improvising_ in front of this audience. As I spoke, I heard mutters beginning to buzz in the background. I caught a few words, here and there, a few broken sentences, and I really wished that I hadn't.

" _What a mortal knows of magic-"_

" _A king relying on-"_

" _Even a Shadowslayer couldn't possibly-"_

I tuned them out, keeping my gaze on Sigil. He frowned at my question.

"I hardly see how it matters," he answered, in his cold, serpentine voice.

"It does," Another voice spoke up. Loki and I turned to Fenrir as one. He stepped forwards, to a resurgence of mutters. Many people were quiet, many were defensive of us, but still there were the naysayers, those who would never trust us, without the evidence of their own eyes…

" _Is there a single_ _ **Jotun**_ _in the palace?"_

Fenrir clearly heard these whispers even louder than I did, what with his heightened senses, but he, too, ignored them. He reached forwards, fingernails extending into claws with a faint silver-gold glow of magic. He reached forwards, running them carefully over the burned edges around the circle of emptiness. "Do you see this? This… backlash?" he looked to Loki. "That could very well extend below the surface of the world. If we knew how deep it went into the ground, we could know the extent of it. The limitations of whatever… _power_ is causing this."

Avalon scowled at the shape shifter. "You believe that you cannot tell as much simply by looking at-"

"Sister," Sigil chided quietly. "We must consider all variables."

"We considered this one long ago," Avalon retorted, looking to Loki. "It is irrelevant, your majesty."

I stood, carefully. "Nonetheless, Avalon," I told her quietly. "I would like to take a look."

Puck shifted on his feet again. "Perhaps Avalon is right," he tried tentatively. "This power scorched the stone around it; it's safe enough to assume that-"

"I did not ask for your assistance, _half-breed_ ," Avalon hissed, abruptly beside him. Her lips curled back from her teeth as Puck bristled. It was only Loki's silent, chiding look, and the placement of his spear between him and her that kept the mage from assaulting the boy. I was surprised by the hatred in her red eyes; surely she, of all people, would understand that you could not help what you were born as…

There was more discontent muttering. Puck retreated away gracefully, backing up a few steps. Fenrir moved to my side. I looked up to Loki, lifting an eyebrow. I didn't have to ask; my face did it for me. He gave me a long look, then nodded once.

Waving a hand, a go-ahead sort of gesture, he told me, "Do as you wish, Frost."

Puck swallowed tightly, stepping forward. "Allow me, Lady Shadowslayer," he said, his hand glowing with power. I was unsure why that hand was shaking. Perhaps it was the crowds; the half-breed more than had something to prove. I smiled a little at him; no way was his training in magic that advanced, not yet.

"No, Puck. That's fine. I've got this." I made sure to look him in the eye, to be as reassuring as possible. "Besides; using magic just might obliterate whatever we're trying to see."

I gestured for those closest to the circle to step back; and the soldiers directed others out of the way quickly enough. I heard more quiet grumblings as I closed my eyes. This was half of the reason I wanted to do this; to get people to shut up.

Pulling my emotions together, using fear and pain and rage, I felt the familiar sensation of Tesseract-blue popping and fizzling in my blood, the explosive crackling of it behind my eyes as the shield erupted around me, flaring outwards, away from my body. I moved my hands, shifting the field out of its original spherical shape so that I could instead form a large, imposing spike; a simple shaft that, stepping forwards, I drove deep into the ground. It sank through easily enough, a fairly unstoppable force, and I shifted its shape once again, flattening it out, so that the ground cracked in half.

The world shifted beneath our feet as I flexed my power carelessly, casually. The ground vibrated; I pulled the shield out only after I had created a fairly decent chasm, feeling all eyes returning to me again.

Fenrir and Puck were the first to return to the site, standing beside me next to the chasm. I crouched down on the ground again, and whistled, impressed.

"Well," I said, studying the scorched stone, the backlash of power that clearly went deep into the planet's crust. "I think it's safe to say that I was right."

Puck seemed a little… relieved. But he said nothing. Fenrir gave me a small, toothy smile. "Indeed, Lady Shadowslayer," he agreed.

"Have you ever seen anything of this nature before, Fenrir?" Loki asked, stepping up to his old friend.

Fenrir considered. He glanced towards Puck, who was kneeling beside the chasm and carefully running his finger across the ash-coated stone, pulling it back to reveal that his fingerprints were smudged with grey.

"Nay," the shape shifter responded after a long moment. "Never."

I chewed on my lower lip, running my fingers across the stone as well. How ash got beneath the ground with no evidence of a fire, I had no clue. "Powerful, though," I noted in a mumble to Loki, and to Fenrir, who was listening in.

"Indeed," Loki agreed grimly. "Something of this magnitude… it would take an untold amount of energy. Certainly something that no lone Jotun is capable of."

I looked to him. "You think it might be a person? But I thought you said that this wasn't an attack."

He shrugged mildly. "There are many other motivations for using magic than just for offense." He shook his head. "But, as I said. If it _is_ the work of a sentient, it is _not_ the work of a Jotun." His red eyes slid over to the twins. "At the very least," he amended, bringing his voice down a little lower. "Not the work of a _single_ Jotun."

My eyebrows lifted, but before I could say any more, I was interrupted by the sound of some kind of commotion.

My ears pricked, and I turned towards the source of the sound, a quiet scuffle by the guards; a few of which were converging on a single spot. All of our eyes went to it, to where a Jotun was trying to push past them.

"I merely want to see, what is so terrible about that?" The Frost Giant said, straining to elbow his way through. The sentries continued pushing him back as he momentarily breeched their line; but more took their place, blocking him off once and for all.

"Please return home, sir," One of them said, mostly kindly. "I suspect you are not well."

His tone made it immediately clear as to the source of the Giant's ailment; and a moment later, catching sight of him, that suspicion was confirmed. He swayed a little on his feet, tripped just a little, and occasionally raised his hand to brush aside a guard who was two feet away from where his hand landed; so his depth perception must have been terrible.

I was sufficiently impressed; it took a pretty mind-shattering amount of alcohol to get a Jotun drunk, I can tell you that much right now.

"It's not such a horrendous crime for a subject to want to see his king," the man said, with a trace of a sneer. "Or the king's _court._ " It was the last word that really clarified the sneer. I reflexively found myself standing in front of Loki, between him and the man. A few more eyes were falling on him now, and the crowd's attention was certainly gained.

"I'd say it was a wonderful show of loyalty," the Jotun continued, his words slurring a little. It wasn't so bad as I'd seen on a lot of humans… but it was still pretty freaking bad. I was legitimately surprised to see this, and then I wondered why. Alcohol was a big thing in the other realms; hell, it wasn't exactly a _little_ thing on Earth. In celebration or sorrow, the bottle was always there to provide an eternal companion…

And people wondered why I never touched the stuff.

"And _loyalty_ ," the man repeated. "Loyalty is something, I'm sure, the king's court sorely needs." His eyes caught on myself, traveling over Sigil, Fenrir, Puck and Avalon. "Considering what they allow among it."

Avalon's lip curled up as Sigil stiffened. Fenrir rolled his eyes, and Puck's gaze flitted to the ground, returning to the ashen crack there. Loki's teeth clenched, but he said not a word as I kept my narrowed eyes on the man.

The man laughed, a hebephrenic little giggle. All eyes were on him now. "A king's court, filled with half-breeds and runts, mortals and mutts." He giggled again as a soldier stepped forwards, now with a great deal more menace in his step. He gestured to those of us who were gathered with one hand. "This is what our king surrounds himself with, and we wonder why-"

He was cut off when one of the soldiers slammed a knee into his stomach. Puck flinched as the air whooshed out of the man, and he fell back, stumbling to the ground.

I glanced to the soldier, walking up to him with a few fast steps. Eyes went to me now as I pulled the sentry back, Loki and the others watching me carefully.

"There's no call for that," I told him, supposedly quietly. But I made sure that the words were loud enough for everyone to hear; and filled with enough authority that there could be no mistaking the fact that they were an order, not a suggestion.

"Lady Shadowslayer-!" the man protested. I cut him off as I stepped up to the drunkard, who was now on the ground, and held out my hand to help him up.

"If we beat down or slaughtered every man, woman, or child who ever disagreed with us, or said a foul word against us while intoxicated, my dear fiancée would be left entirely without a kingdom," I said primly. The Giant on the ground almost took my hand; but when he saw the color of my skin, he recoiled, looking at me in shock and disgust. I pulled my hand back casually, carelessly. Turning back to the soldiers, I inclined my head to him and asked, "Help him to his feet, would you?" Then, lowering my voice, I added, "And be certain he gets home safely."

The sentry I addressed looked back, towards Loki. The Jotun King's eyes were hard. "Do as she says," he ordered coolly. The sentry bowed stiffly and pulled the intoxicated man off of the ground, a little more roughly than was strictly necessary.

He was being led out of the way when another voice disturbed the peace; this one much louder, much clearer, and much less slurred.

"He does have a certain… point, though." The voice drawled. Eyes shifted, seeking out the speaker, and a man separated himself from the crowd, stepping forwards. Immediately, the sentries swarmed him, blocked him from coming any further… he half-raised his hands and chuckled softly, in an oily way, smug superiority all over his smarmy blue face. His red eyes locked on me and did not leave as he carried on, regardless of the weapons that were starting to be aimed at him. "We live in strange times, when mortals gain powers that they should never have had, when devastation plagues our world…" he gestured with one hand to the cracked-open circle in the ground. "And, to guide us through these dark times, we have a king who is infatuated with-of all things- _mortals._ "

Loki's teeth clenched. "The Shadowslayer, as you recall-" He started. I shot him a look-his protesting this would only make him look weak and he knew it- but the other man cut him off before I had a chance to rectify his words.

"A Shadowslayer who cannot even defend herself," the Frost Giant said airily. "Who allows dissention in the ranks, who flinches away from the thought of _violence…?"_ He gestured now to where the drunken giant was still being led away. "And who is too frightened to stand against those who would merely _talk_ against her?"

Loki's hands clenched in fists, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Anger was exploding behind his heart, but he had it under control again; he would not say anything without thinking it over first, would not address this commoner's issues. He would hold himself with the grace and regality of a king.

Besides, this was _my_ fight now.

I sighed deeply. How many times was I going to have to prove to these people that 'mortal' didn't necessarily mean 'weak'?

"You think me a coward?" I asked him, tilting my head to the side, curious and innocent as I could be. "You think me afraid?"

He smiled carefully. "I admit I do, little mortal."

The crowd was murmuring again. This was causing a great deal of commotion among those gathered. But Puck, Avalon, Sigil and Fenrir had all already backed away; as had Steprin and the other sentries who were not directly involved in keeping the crowd back. They knew what was coming.

I carefully tugged back my sleeve, slowly, purposefully. "I see." I looked up at the Giant. "And this is because I have a vague apprehension for unnecessary violence, correct?"

"I would hardly call it unnecessary, 'm'lady'. But aye."

I nodded slowly. "Well." I allowed my hand to drop to my side, allowed the inside of my arm to show, free of the sleeve. Allowed the scars to be intensely visible as I smiled and smiled and smiled some more. "I suppose you could say that, when one has dealt with violence enough, one becomes rather tired of it; and learns when it truly _is_ 'unnecessary'." I tilted my head to the side again. "But I suppose _that_ is a wisdom you have yet to learn in your life."

At the sight of the scars, the murmuring intensified. The Giant smirked. "You think showing that you were just as defeated by the Shadow Child as any other person makes you strong?" he whispered. Somehow, it still resonated, loud and powerful, throughout the air.

"Considering that I was the one who killed her?" I grinned. "Yeah, a little bit."

His eyes darkened. "And who is to say that you truly did? That it was truly _your hand_ that took the life of the Fraye?" There were flinches throughout the crowd- and indeed, through some of the soldiers- at her name. But this Giant didn't even have the sense to be afraid of it. Then again, I supposed _I_ didn't, either.

"Many of Jotunheim's soldiers were at the Battle of Shadows. Some saw it for themselves. If you wish, you can ask them."

"They saw the shadows retreating," the Giant responded casually. "They saw the _shadows_ destroy their master." His eyes gleamed dangerously as he took a step forwards. Despite the tightening of the guard around him, he did not react. "And the last I heard, mortals could not control such magic." His eyes grew ever more clouded. "Not even you, with your… stolen gifts, are capable of such things."

" _Stolen?_ " I snarled. That was it, line was crossed, and I was stepping forwards, about to knock some heads. Loki quickly stepped in.

"Clearly," he said, with all the ice that an ice planet's king _should_ inherently have. "You have been misinformed. When you rectify this situation, then, perhaps, this conversation may be worth having." His hand landed-and tightened- on my shoulder. "Until such time, it is not. And you are not worth our time." He turned away.

The man's eyes gleamed even brighter as Loki and I turned and started to walk away from him. To have a warrior turn their back on you, Loki had once told me, was a sign that they did not frighten you. That they were not even worth watching. It was a sign of great disrespect.

As we kept showing this disrespect, moving forwards, the Jotun called, "Then I suppose I shall have to _make_ myself worthy of the _king's time_." He cleared his throat, then, in a loud voice, announced, "I challenge the Lady Frost on her title of 'Shadowslayer.'"

The world turned even colder than it was before, the ice dropping a few degrees. Sigil's hands clenched as Avalon let out a sound of disgust. Fenrir's eyebrows lifted as Puck watched the Giant. Loki, standing beside me with his hand laced in mine, stopped moving and became stone, an unmoving statue. My throat closed as the murmuring began anew.

A challenge to my title. Which basically meant that, if I lost whatever his 'challenge' was- and it would probably be a trial by combat- I'd lose it. I'd lose the name 'Shadowslayer'. He hadn't even gone after my future rank; just the title that I already had. That I had worked so hard to attain.

 _Well,_ I supposed, _the title is enough._

I could refuse. It would seem weak, but I could refuse. But, you know, seriously, I was getting kind of a little bit very pissed off with this dude. I mean, I'd handled this well and cordially and politically, but my day had been pretty bad already. My date had been ruined, there were crazy destruction circles, and instead of spending some much-needed 'quality time' with my husband-to-be, I was instead dealing with racist freaking aliens, so… yeah, I was pretty ticked off.

I gritted my teeth as the Giant added, "A duel of combat, if you would be so kind."

His voice was very smug and irritating. I sighed very heavily and looked up to Loki with pleading eyes. He would want me to refuse. It would be better for him if I _did_ refuse, regardless of what it would do for our pride, or for our reputation.

But _come on._ Racist. Freaking. _Aliens._

Seeing the look in my eye, Loki nodded once, tightly. I turned back to the man quickly, before he could change his mind. In a few quick, long strides, I was next to the sentries who were standing in front of the Jotun. He looked down at me- at a few feet of height difference- and smiled bemusedly. My hands clenched.

"I accept," I informed him coldly. Tilting my head an inch to the right, I asked, "Your terms of combat?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Should the future queen not first name a Champion, to fight in her stead?" he asked. It was superior and annoying, the way he talked, the way he said 'future queen', the way he assumed that I wouldn't fight my own damn battles. I mean, it was well within either of our rights to name a Champion to fight for us; but _I_ had accepted this fight. No one else had accepted it in my place.

"And why would I?" I demanded. His other eyebrow went up.

"So the king will not fight for his lover?" he asked, looking up to Loki. "Surely it is a terrible thing, for a king to allow his future queen's honor to be questioned, her name to be disgraced…!"

My interest buzzed. A thought occurred to me; that, perhaps, he was just trying to get an opportunity to fight Loki. It was possible. But it wasn't going to happen; and Loki made that immediately and abundantly clear.

Looking the man in the eye as the sentries- with teeth and fists clenched- backed away, Loki allowed himself a cold, ruthless smile. "Perhaps, sir," he said slowly, "If I was in a kinder mood, I would fight on the Lady Frost's behalf." He shrugged, very mildly. "As it is, I am not in such a kind mood; and I shall instead allow her to do as she wishes."

The man blinked. Then he laughed. "You believe your future wife to be more powerful than you?"

He was a serious shit-stirrer, this one. Like, on a professional level. But Loki's eyes merely grew colder. "I did not say that she is 'more powerful'," he informed the man (though we both knew that I was. We'd gotten in a death match before, and I'd come out the winner; and that was _before_ I got my powers properly under control). "I said that she is _crueler._ " He straightened a little. "If this were my battle, I would simply kill you, and have this ended once and for all." He smiled now, blissful and detached. "She, on the other hand, will leave you very much alive." His words darkened even as his face stayed calm and collected and almost kind. "And only then will you realize what a true cruelty that is."

I think I saw the guy shiver. I folded my arms as he looked down to me again, slightly unnerved. "Your terms of combat?" I repeated.

My words seemed to remind him of what he was trying to fight against, what he was declaring war on, and he straightened, stiffened, became stronger in his own resolve. "Othai Trai." He announced. It was a typical type of challenge, a typical form of 'duel'. A simple enough fight, with the usual horrible things banned; and, basically, if you knocked out and/or killed your opponent, you won. You were allowed one weapon, and an area was chosen for the fight; it would be as big-or as small- as the challenger and the challenged decreed.

I, of course, was full aware of what these things meant, but he looked down on me and said, "Oh. I apologize; of course, a _mortal_ would not know of these things."

"Othai Trai," I retorted. "'Without Magic'."

Oh, yeah, that was another rule, too: no magic was allowed. Like, at all.

I shifted my weight to my right foot and added, "I assume this means that you wish for me to fight without my 'abilities'."

He smiled wickedly. "Aye." He stepped back, gesturing to the crowds, who all seemed fairly excited for the coming blood. "Perhaps the world will see you as you are without your _stolen_ _magic_. See you as a child from a _race_ of _children._ "

I rolled my eyes. "And perhaps, when you get beaten by a _little girl,_ they'll see you as the fool that you will always be." I lifted both eyebrows, turning away from him. "Choose your weapon, then," I said, airily. "This'll be over quickly."

Immediately, a sentry was on one knee, holding a sword out to me. "M'lady," he said, presenting it in front of me. I saw the Shadow scar on the back of his neck as he said, "If you are in need of a weapon, my sword is-"

He didn't even get to complete his words. Another sentry was beside him almost immediately. "And mine, m'lady." He said, quickly but firmly.

"And my spear, m'lady," another voice chimed. I blinked in shock. More sentries were on one knee now, making me more than a little bit uncomfortable, all of them holding out one form of weapon or another. I was… surprised. Surprised and touched.

And suddenly… they weren't the only ones.

"An axe for the lady Shadowslayer?" A voice said, almost tentatively, as a man stepped out of the crowd. He placed the weapon on the ground, keeping his eyes there as well, bowing low as he walked and kneeling once he stopped. His voice was much quieter as he added, "Once a Shadowslayer, always a Shadowslayer."

I blinked again. My heart stuttered a little. Okay, now I felt… better. My anger melted a little. This dude was obnoxious and irritating and everything I ever fought against, it was true… but he was still just one man. One man on a planet of billions. A planet that I had saved. And most of those billions hadn't forgotten that. Most of them remembered.

But, every so often, there was just some idiot that had to be dealt with.

And wasn't that the nature of life, anyway?

I swallowed, trying to clear out the happy tightness in my chest as I said, sincerely. "Thank you."

Most eyes turned down. But one or two nodded. I turned my eyes to the weaponry and tried to focus on what I needed to do, instead of just what these people were willing to do to help me.

Looking at the weaponry that was placed before me, I suddenly realized; I knew exactly Jack shit about wielding this crap. Except one of the knives, but knife skills weren't exactly my forte, either. That was a problem I'd have to see to.

I took a look at one of the spears. Actually, I might have a _bit_ of an idea with one of those. After all, I knew a lot from Loki…

"Natalie."

I turned to the person who had said my name. Loki's spear was in his hand; he twirled it around, so that the blunt end was held out towards me. "I believe you are somewhat experienced with this."

There was immediate awe in the sentries' eyes; and in those who had brought weapons from the crowd. The King's scepter was a very well-crafted weapon; a weapon from another world. I'd heard the soldiers talk of weaponry before; and, for all of Tony's talk of the 'Glowstick of Destiny', I had no illusions about just how badass this thing really was. I also knew how much a similar weapon could cost to make; and not just a cost of money. It was a difficult and daunting task to forge anything even similar. I looked to Loki, eyebrows shooting straight up. He met my gaze evenly.

No one seemed too injured when I took the weapon in hand. I think they all knew that they would have made the same choice. I balanced it on my palm; I had, in fact, played with this thing on occasion. Okay, 'played' is a little too much of an innocent term. More like 'murdered a few poor, defenseless, training dummies'. And, of course, Loki's knowledge of it in my head wasn't exactly a bad thing, either.

With those things combined, I might actually stand a chance, here.

Unable to help myself- because I was getting just the slightest bit nervous, being forced to fight without my abilities- I stood on tiptoe and gave Loki a quick peck on the cheek. I think it made a few more people mutter, but the sentries didn't seem too startled; and even in the crowd, it didn't seem like such a big deal. "Thanks," I said. He nodded once, and I turned away, heading towards the Giant again.

"Oh, and Miss Frost?" Loki added. I turned back.

Smiling wryly, I said, "Let me guess. Don't hurt him too badly?"

His eyes remained stern. "No. Destroy him."

I considered. "Maybe," I conceded, turning to the Giant who had challenged me. I studied his weak points as he moved towards me; for all of my nerves, it was incredibly easy for me to fall into my usual pattern, into the dance of war. In my old life, I might have been average; I had C-to-B-average grades, I couldn't cook or draw or sing or anything else that the world might have thought of as 'extraordinary', I never participated in sports, and I was, in all ways… normal. Normal and ordinary and forgettable. But now? Well, let's just say that I'd taken to my training with the Avengers like a fish to water; and after a few years… I was a lot tougher than most people gave me credit for. A lot tougher than I gave _myself_ credit for.

Besides, I had the ultimate teachers; and the ultimate sparring partners.

Still… this dude was _immortal._ And I was without my abilities…

I swallowed, but kept my face resolute. There was no backing down from this now.

"Your arena of combat?" The Frost Giant asked, reaching behind his shoulder. I was a little bit intimidated by the size of the bigass axe that he pulled from off of his back, but not _too_ intimidated. I'd seen things that this man could only think of in his nightmares.

"Here's good," I replied, taking Loki's scepter in both hands. It was in its 'battle mode', its longer-and, one could argue, deadlier- form. I couldn't make it shoot energy blasts- though that was also arguable, with my connection to the Tesseract- but it was still a gnarly weapon. And it still felt kinda, oddly _right_ to have.

"Boundaries?" The Giant asked, looking around.

"I prefer not to have them," I said, glancing at the staff in my hand, then to the crowd. Seeing them, I added, "But no damaging innocents."

"Naturally not." He swung the axe, long, fierce swoops that looked admittedly impressive. But I'd been in worse fights. A lot worse. I gauged his weak points and was surprised by the number I found. It might take me a while, what with his superior strength and size… but I could take him. 'Course I could. I was the freaking Shadowslayer.

And he wasn't going to _take_ that from me.

I didn't bother with fancy weaponry play, though I did do a few sweeps with the scepter to reacquaint myself with its weight. "Then," the man said, "If all is settled…" he looked up to me, red eyes shining. "Shall we begin?"

"You know, I think we shall."

I had barely finished when his smile grew, and he abruptly lunged towards me.

He was fast, I'll give him that. But one advantage of being the smaller party; I was _faster._ As the axe fell, I dodged to one side, skipping across the ice and stone on light feet. It was all too easy to sweep the tip of the scepter across his ankles, opening small lines of blood. Well, at the very least, this was something that could pierce immortal skin. I just had to be strong enough to wield it. The thing was heavy.

As the man recovered, whirling around, on the defense again, I silently thanked Clint in my head, my training flooding through me, the strength and certainty of my muscles falling into place. I trusted my body to do what I told it to, to not mess up in the slightest. I trusted my own reflexes to do what my brain often could not.

I waited for the man to attack again. This time, he brought the axe about in a sideways swing, chopping at an angle and height that could've cut me in half. If I dodged, it would put me in a bad position; so instead, I blocked it. The metal edge clanged violently against the metal in my hand, sending vibrations up my bones and unexpected pain in my wrists. I cursed silently at the shooting, stabbing pain, but I pushed it down, turned off the nerves in that area, calling to mind an entirely different training altogether: Fraye's training.

I didn't thank _her_ , though.

The axe slid down the metal scepter with enough friction to send up sparks. We broke apart a moment later as he tried to bring down another blow; I blocked, blocked again, blocked a third time. My arms started to ache, but I numbed myself to the pain, tucked it away in the back of my mind. Focused instead on the positive; at least the fire of the battle was warming up the cold stiffness in my muscles; it was _hard_ to fight in this freezing place…

The giant raised his axe again, with a loud roar, bringing it down for a final, more shattering blow. The world slowed to a grinding halt as, in the space of less than a second, Natasha's voice managed to ring in my ears:

" _A 'final blow' to finish off your opponent is a mistake. Collecting all your strength and energy into one strike is_ _ **always**_ _a mistake. It leaves you open in too many places. A final blow should be the same as the rest of your blows: subtle and well defended."_

Within the space of that second, I saw what she was talking about; both arms were raised with the axe; not quite above his head, but getting there. And that left his stomach wide open for attack.

But if I didn't block the blow that was raining down…

Meh, call me a risk-taker, but I pulled back a step, twirling the scepter around so that the blunt end was facing the Jotun. With as much strength as I could manage-knowing that I was leaving myself undefended, but not seeing a lot of choice; or a lot of opportunities for him to take advantage of that- I drove the spear butt right into the man's stomach.

It was a harder blow than I'd anticipated; the Giant grunted as the air left his body, stumbling back, his blow falling wildly, his axe quivering in his hand. I managed to keep it from falling on me as he completed it, then pulled the spear back and struck again, in the same place. He stumbled even further, and I pulled the scepter upright, whirling it around so that the blade was facing him again.

It would take him a few seconds to recover. Seconds he didn't have. Time had slowed for me, slowed to a crawl, and I needed no advice, no memories of past training, to tell me what to do next. I stepped up to him, got closer, and swiped the blade across the man's hands and wrists, making his grip weaker. I did this until he cried out and dropped the axe, moving back again.

But I wasn't done. I swiped the blade at his knees, cutting open thin-but-painful gashes, swiping it again at the thighs and bringing the blade up to his stomach. I avoided fatal blows, but I gave him a scratch or two to remember me by. He continued to stumble backwards, and I continued to advance, before placing the spear's blunt edge into the ground behind his heel, so that, as he stumbled back again, he fell against it, missing his footing and falling to the ground as I brought the spear towards me again, tripping him up with it. He collapsed to the ground, and I pressed the blade to his throat.

"Surrender."

Surrender was, in fact, a valid method of winning an Othai Trai. But one look in his eyes made it clear that it wasn't going to happen. The curse he spat out at me made it even clearer.

I shrugged, turned the spear around, and struck him between the eyes with the blunt edge. I had to hit him twice with my measly human strength, but he was out cold by the second time.

I planted the spear in the ground. The crowds, I only now realized, had been cheering and chanting and other such things expected of an audience. And now they were going insane. I planted the spear in the ground and leaned against it as a soldier stepped forwards to be certain that the man was unconscious. Moments later, the battle was called. I bowed theatrically and returned to Loki's side, handing the spear over to him. He accepted and nodded once, as though this was only expected. To him, I now realized… it was. He was more confident in my skills then I had been.

"Well, that was easy," I said, slouching to one side as the man was being dragged off. A sentry had started a chant in the crowd: _Long live the Lady Shadowslayer!_

I was starting to get used to that name.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time the craziness of the match had died down, and by the time that we finished collecting what data we could from the circle of devastation. By the time we finally made it back to the palace.

The day was shot, as I'd known it had been, and I fell back onto the couch and groaned a little, tiredly. Tomorrow was Sunday; a weekend, granted, but I'd be back to school before I knew it. And Loki… he didn't exactly have 'weekends', which sucked royally. Literally royally.

"You did well out there," Loki complimented. One of his sentries/advisors was standing by; Loki was going to return to work in a few minutes. He was just… 'dropping me off', as it were.

"Thanks," I said, closing my eyes and draping the back of my hand over them. I was… well, not exactly 'tired'. More like 'drained.' Standing up to idiots takes it out of you.

Loki paused. Then, seeing that the sentry was still standing beside him, he switched to Spanish. It was an easy transition. "I admit… I have missed seeing you in battle."

"Seriously?" I asked, also switching to Spanish. I turned to him, propping myself up on one elbow. "And precisely _what_ is so great about seeing me fight?"

He shrugged mildly. "You become more alive, as you always have." He turned away. "Perhaps you should resume training with the Avengers. I believe you might find it… liberating."

"Having Clint shout orders at me while dodging explosions?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. Very liberating."

He chuckled softly. We fell silent for a long moment.

And then he asked, "Will you be all right?"

I waved a hand. "Been through worse. Dude didn't even scratch me."

He frowned. "That is not what I meant. And you are well aware of it."

My eyes flicked towards the wall. I hesitated, then, in a quiet voice, said, "You're a king, Loki." I picked at my nails without looking at them, keeping my eyes on the wall, away from the Trickster. "You're going to have responsibilities that you can't give up for me. I'm not stupid enough to think that you will, and I'm not bitchy enough to _expect_ you to." I waved a hand. "Go. I'll be fine."

The frown remained, stern and serious. But then he turned, walking out with the soldier beside him- whose name, I believed, was Trin- and leaving me behind.

I closed my eyes and considered taking a nap. I didn't exactly have any 'homework', or anything else that had to be done. I'd made sure to take care of everything _before_ today. I had a few books I wanted to read, but reading… meh, it wasn't all that appealing. I supposed that I could go back to earth and watch TV at the Tower; but then I'd have to explain what happened, explain why I wasn't away with Loki, and I wasn't really in the mood to tell anyone else that.

Realizing how bored I felt, how upset I was, I tuned Loki out, throwing up a few walls so that he wouldn't be aware of it. He didn't need to know about this until I was over it; until the emotions had died away. It would only make him feel pointlessly guilty. He had a _throne_ to look after; not just a girlfriend.

These walls kept me from seeing what transpired next, as Loki and Trin headed towards the throne room. Loki's spear was in hand-as it usually was; a scepter is a king's weapon, after all- and his hand clenched around the golden metal as he walked. Each time it rested against the ground, he heard the sound echo throughout the hall; and each echo took him further and further away…

He halted abruptly, and Trin turned to him. "Your majesty?" he immediately asked, concerned.

Loki looked up to him, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. "What is it that I am meant to do today, Trin?"

The Jotun looked back, curiously. "I'm sorry, your majesty?"

"What is so important that it _must_ be done today?" Loki inquired. "After I specifically set about making certain that nothing _would_ have to be done?"

Trin, apparently, saw where this was going. He swallowed. "Well, sir, there are details of the treaty that you wished to refine before presenting it to the Asgardians… A great deal of them, as it happens. And the Council of Mages wished to meet with you, to discuss recent developments… and of course, your apprentice has been-"

"All of which can be done at a later date," Loki said coldly. "Is that not correct?"

"Sir-"

"Reschedule it, Trin." The words were a final order; Loki turned away and began walking down the hall, back to the room where he had left me. "Clear today of responsibilities."

"But sir, I'm afraid some of these things _must-_ "

Loki whirled on him abruptly. His eyes blazed as Trin fell silent, swallowing, knowing that he'd gone just a single step too far.

"I have been on the throne of this planet for a number of months, Trin," the Trickster informed his advisor. "I am well aware of what _must_ be done immediately." He lifted an eyebrow, taking a step back, languid and fluid and smooth. "Rank has its privileges, Trin. And one of which is the fact that, when I give an order, you must follow it." The other eyebrow went up. "I want you to move these duties to a later date. It is your job to ensure that this happens. Is that not so?"

Trin swallowed dryly; Loki could see the movement in his throat. "A-Aye, sir."

"Then see it done." Loki turned away and began walking down the hall, masking the shaking of his fingertips by clenching the spear in hand ever tighter. The last time he'd given an order such as this had been in an altogether separate rule. The last time he had played on the privileges of a king, he had been seated on the throne of Midgard.

And he was hardly any kind of _'king'_ then.

But this was different. This was another circumstance entirely.

Wasn't it?

* * *

I cupped my gloved fingers over my mouth and shouted at the top of my lungs, " _Echo!"_

The word resounded back to me a few times before fading into nothingness. _Echo! Echo! Echo!_

I grinned, then brought my hands up again. "Baloney!"

 _Baloney! Baloney! Baloney!_

I laughed a few times, a mad little cackle of a laugh, as Loki gave me a weird look. "I would swear that you are three years old," he informed me.

"Three!" I shouted, louder than before.

 _Three! Three! Three!_

The word bounced back and forth amid the fantastic chasm before me, amid the crystalline slopes of the enormous cliff face, the sheer drop of the canyon. The sound of my own laughter danced amid the sparkling ice that coated each and every rock, each and every surface, painting them with ice. It was a very beautiful place; one of many that I'd seen today.

Loki had wanted me to see some of the wonders of his new world; and part of him had wanted to see them as well, wanted to observe them all with his own eyes. And so, on our 'day off', that was what we had done; exploring one thing after another, spending all of our time together walking and talking. Sure, we'd lost time from this morning, but this was still more time than we'd had in months. It was… perfect.

And, to make it even more perfect, the two of us had made a rule. Or, rather, _I_ had made this rule, and pressed Loki until he agreed. There was to be no talking about anything 'important'. Nothing that was even _remotely_ stressful. The throne, the Avengers, my mortality, the wedding, our families… it was all booted out of our brains, leaving us with nothing but pointless small talk.

Believe me, we _needed_ something _pointless_ in our lives.

I turned back to Loki and gave him a wide smile, gripping his arm and pulling him into the spot where I had been standing. "Try it!" I prodded. "It's fun!"

Loki frowned at me, then at the canyon in front of us. It was like Jotunheim's version of the Grand Canyon; only _bigger._ Bigger and _icier._ There was no way that you could traverse that place, could go down it, without some serious climbing gear and a whole lotta guts. But it was nice, there was an _amazing_ echo, and Loki said that, if we waited a little longer, it had a 'secret' to it. I hadn't asked him what that secret was, or tried to get it out of him telepathically, but I admit that I _was_ getting pretty curious, the longer he stayed quiet about it.

I cupped my hands to my mouth again. "I like cheese!"

 _Cheese! Cheese! Cheese!_

I giggled, then nudged Loki. He gave me a hard, steady look. "No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Absolutely not, Frost." He turned away from me, continuing his walk along the edge. Neither of us was afraid of falling. We were used to heights; the roof of the Tower, for example. And we had navigated far greater heights under far more dangerous circumstances. And, even if one of us _did_ slip, I had the mighty protective bubble to use to protect us.

My eyes narrowed on my fiancée's back- he was finally wearing a shirt, and his old Asgardian wear, which he still felt more comfortable in; though he would tell no one else that- and he continued walking. After a moment, a mean little smile crossed my face.

Quite frankly, I'm surprised it took me this long to do this. We were on an ice planet. A place that was covered in snow as far as the eye could see.

I guess it shows how stressed we were, that I hadn't yet pelted Loki with a snowball.

But hey, first time for everything, right?

It took me all of twenty seconds to scoop together a bunch of snow, to shape them into two balls on the ground, and to pick one up and chuck it at the back of the Trickster's head. _Smack!_

Snow particles intermingled with his impeccably styled black hair, showering off of him. I felt the blow, as though it was my _own_ head, I knew how much it hurt, but it didn't hurt enough to make me sorry, and I knew that it wouldn't keep me from throwing the other one if he kept being such a stick-in-the-mud.

Slowly, _slowly,_ Loki turned around to face me. The look on his face was entirely priceless, and I felt my grin stretch out even wider, until it practically took up my entire face. He seemed to be wondering if that had seriously just happened, if I had _really_ just done that, and I tossed the second snowball up into the air and caught it, just to prove that I _had._

 _And what are you gonna do about it?_ I tried to ask with my eyes, a smug little challenge that I knew would just press all the right buttons. Loki just stared at me for a long few seconds.

Then, he let out a small, quick, quiet sigh. I knew immediately that he was going to try and reason with me, to tell me to 'stop behaving like a child', and that he 'wasn't in the mood for games', and his calm, rational tone reaffirmed that suspicion. "Natalie, you are in one of the most-"

 _Smack!_ Snowball number two thwacked him in the chest. He swayed a little, without taking a step back, and closed his eyes, tensing as the blow struck. After a moment, his eyes opened again, a little sterner this time. I was already making snowball number three, leaning over and smiling quite contentedly. Loki tried again, carrying on with, "One of the most beautiful places in-"

 _Smack!_ And through the air went snowball number three. My aim wasn't so good this time, and it just grazed his arm. I had snowballs number four and five tucked into the crook of my elbow, and I could feel the cold of them even through my thick jacket. Loki's eyes didn't leave me this time, growing even harder.

"Natalie-" he tried again.

 _Smack!_

"Nat-"

 _Smack!_

"Realms' sake, Frost-"

 _Smack!_

He caught that one in the palm of his hand, crushing it beneath his fingers, his eyes burning. "Can you not be serious for a single seco-"

 _Smack!_

He closed his eyes again. I grinned and made a few more snowballs while I waited for him to gather his composure again. It took him a long time- and a large number of deep breaths- before his red eyes flickered open. I waited for him to open his mouth to speak before I took the next snowball out of my arm, aimed, and threw.

The next snowball went sailing through the air. It would've landed right in his face, exploding to cold, white, powdery dust around his pretty Jotun features; _if_ he had actually been standing there at the time.

As it was, the snowball passed straight through the illusionary clone that was still staring at me with hard, serious eyes. I blinked, surprised, and it took me a whole of two seconds to realize what had just happened.

Two seconds that I didn't really have.

" _Crap!"_ I shouted as I whirled around; too late, Loki was behind me, dumping an armful of snow onto my head. The flurry of cold had me stumbling backwards with a loud, undignified, " _Ack!_ " I tried to recover quickly, throwing snowballs even as I stumbled back, tripping and falling to the ground. I heard one of them land, but when I managed to clear the snow out of my eyes, I realized that it hadn't hit anything essential.

And, besides that, Loki was after me again. There was a nasty little grin on his face as he pelted me with ever more snow. Laughing and screaming girly shrieks, I pulled myself to my feet. I didn't bother to form the snow into proper snowballs; merely scooped some into cupped hands, pressed those hands together, and, hoping for the best, tossed them towards my fiancée. My aim suffered hugely, but I didn't have another choice, dancing and dodging his own attacks as I was.

The fight devolved from there, a flurry of movement, the two of us reflexively keeping out of each other's heads; just to make it fun. I knew that I got Loki a number of times, but it felt like he always had the upper hand, that I was just struggling to keep up after his first surprise attack. My back, ribs, and left arm all stung from some particularly fast snowballs, though I was pretty certain it wouldn't bruise.

Still, despite me being the one who'd picked the fight, I realized that I'd have to end it quickly; so I braced myself at the edge of the canyon, facing Loki, who was a number of feet away from it, and grinned.

That look immediately made the Trickster cautious; his eyes widened, but it was too late. I bellowed out a war cry as I charged, slamming into him, taking him down into the snow. He fell back, and I heard all of the air rush out of him; but, as we fell, he somehow found the presence of mind to stuff the snow that he still had in his hands down the back of my shirt. The cold permeated my spine and spread out through my entire body, and I quickly- _stupidly-_ rolled on my back, trying to get rid of it.

You can guess how that worked out.

As I rolled off of him, Loki tried to get back to his feet; but I kept my arm pinning his shoulders to the ground. He threw it off after a moment, but it gave me time to sit upright myself, trying to shake the snow out of my shirt. With all of the layers I was wearing, it wasn't working out so well.

Loki didn't bother getting to his feet as he saw me; instead, he sat back, leaning on his hands and laughing at the weird dance I was doing, trying to get away from the cold. He was still laughing when I managed to get all of the snow- or, at least, _most of it-_ out from the back of my shirt. I glared at him and tackled him once more, stopping him from laughing, both of us falling back into the snow.

For a moment, we just stayed there, both of us looking at each other, me half-draped over his chest and stomach, lying perpendicular to him. We were each surveying our own situations, trying to assess the damage and surmise how we would each get out of our own predicaments when our eyes met.

The seconds our eyes touched- red on brown- we lost it. We both burst into laughter.

Loki pushed me off of him, and I fell back into the snow again, adjusting myself until we were lying down right next to each other, laughing all the while. I was laughing harder than he was, sure, but at least he _was_ laughing. Man, I loved that sound.

Our laughter died to chuckles, our chuckles to smiles and silence. I linked my hand in his, which was as cold as the ice around it, and the two of us stared up at the dark grey skies together.

After a moment, I squeezed his hand. "Well, that was fun."

Loki laughed once, quiet and breathy. But he didn't respond. I nudged him. "Hey, you had fun, too. Don't say you didn't."

He almost rolled his eyes. "At your most insistent behest, yes. I find that I was forced to."

"There are worse things you can be forced to do."

He half-smiled. We fell into silence again. It lasted a good few minutes this time, as we both lay there and tried to catch our breath, both stared at the sky and kept our hands linked.

After a moment, a gleam of color caught Loki's eye. He sat up, lifting himself on his hands, and smiled lightly. "It's starting."

My eyebrows pulled together, and I, too, sat up. The canyon, more than ten feet away from us, seemed to be… glowing. A subtle aura of shimmering color, reds and blues intermingling together. Loki helped me to my feet and led me towards the canyon, where we peered over the edge together.

"Oh," I breathed, awestruck. Loki's lips twitched up at the corner, but I wasn't looking at him, wasn't facing him. I was looking down into the ice-washed chasm below me, at the brilliant, magnificence of light and color that was reflecting inside of it.

Every icicle, every rock that was frozen over, every empty space that had been filled with frost, every last inch of that freeze-painted canyon, was filled with color. A thousand different colors, shimmering and shining, rainbows created, formed, and fractured by the light that struck it. I glanced up, briefly, to the sun, which was not directly overhead, but at a very particular angle. I followed that angle with my eyes, followed it down to the ice, to the thousands and thousands of fractured rainbow colors. Red and yellow and green and violet and blue and all the others, all mixed and jumbled and glowing. A soft aurora had formed over the top of the canyon in places, pieces of floating light that looked solid enough to step on, solid enough to use to walk over the colorful void.

"Wow," I whispered. "Just… wow."

"It happens three times a day," Loki told me, in a soft tone. "When the light hits certain angles." He gestured to the sun. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the colors long enough to follow where his hand went. "It only lasts a few minutes each time." He rearranged his hand in mine, so that our fingers were intertwining. "This is the longest; it should last eighteen minutes."

I couldn't look at him for a moment, my gaze trapped by the canyon's auroras. But, after a while, I realized that his eyes weren't on the canyon, or any of its colors.

They were on me.

Once he realized that I knew he was looking, his eyes darted to the chasm. I felt my lips pull up, but smothered the smile as I managed to turn my head away from the glittering lights. My eyes followed, and my breath halted on its journey as I caught sight of Loki.

The light shimmered softly against his blue skin, illuminating his face in vivid colors, gleaming off the gold on his Asgardian clothing. I smiled to myself. The colors flitted and danced in the sky beneath our feet, and they rose up to touch our skin; I looked to our linked hands, blue and tan skin both painted in reflected light, like the shadows cast by a stain glass window. It was all so… beautiful.

Loki's eyes slowly came back to me; and this time, when they landed on my face, he didn't look away. I smiled gently at him, and he smirked back, and I looked him right in the eye and said, "It's beautiful."

His eyes darted to the chasm, then back again. "Aye," he whispered softly.

I smiled and pulled his hand, pulled him a little closer to me, then put his arm around my shoulder, still holding his hand tight. Once his arm was around my shoulder, he pulled me closer, the two of us side by side as we looked back to the glowing, colorful crack in the earth.

"I love you, you know that?" I said quietly, watching the show of lights in front of me.

He chuckled once and kissed the top of my head. He didn't respond. He didn't need to. But I found myself saying, "No, I really mean it. I really, really love you."

He rolled his eyes as I extricated myself from his hold. "And I, you," he answered softly. As though this was what I wanted to hear; but it was still something that he was willing to say. Something that the two of us rarely said to each other, as we each already knew, as we _always_ knew…

But, as I heard my words- growing a little louder now- echo back in whispers to me from the canyon, I realized that it wasn't enough to say it like this. That I wanted to do more. Say it louder. Shout it. Remind myself of it. Remind myself why I did the things I did and why I was here on a world of ice and why everything was perfect and why all of my problems would eventually be solved and why the world was a wonderful place.

"No, you don't get it," I said, my eyes shining. I could see them, from his eyes, could see the colors dancing on my own face as I grinned. My voice rose, louder, almost-but not quite- a shout. "I love you!"

And then I turned to the canyon. "You hear that, world?!" I demanded of the glittering, dancing lights. Demanded of the ice. I cupped my hands over my mouth once more and shouted into the colored abyss: " _I LOVE LOKI LAUFEYSON!"_

There was no one around to hear us, no one in this emptiness. We had avoided cities all day, for the simple purpose of being alone together, and now we were alone, really and truly alone, with my own voice shouting back echoes from the glittering haze of lights. _Laufeyson! Laufeyson! Laufeyson!_

But, even as isolated and alone as we were, Loki's immediate first response was to reach forwards, to silence me, as his face grew hot and the blue skin grew darker under his blush. "Frost-" he complained, seemingly mortified, but I danced out of his reach before his hand could fall on my shoulder. I turned back to him, grinning.

"S'matter, darling? Ashamed of me?"

He scowled. "Of course not. But-"

"Then what does it matter?" I asked, eyebrows shooting up. I held out my arms, gesturing around us. "Besides, who's gonna hear me?" I cupped my hands over my mouth again. "I LOVE LOKI LAUFEYSON!" I shouted again. His face was getting darker, the heat in his cheeks more pronounced. But he was smiling, just the slightest little bit. He was pleased, I knew, he liked to hear me say it, liked to hear it over and over again, to be reminded of the fact that someone in the world found it within themselves to forgive him for all of the crap he did. He liked to be reminded that, even if everyone else died or deserted him, there would always be one person, _one person,_ who would love him, unconditionally and forever.

The words echoed back to me, again and again, as I shouted them over and over, until my throat grew hoarse, and I had to cough a few times. Loki was looking at me with that old, bemused smile of his, but he eventually gave up on trying to stop me. It felt right, to shout it out like this. Felt right, to be proud of it. I'd spent so long trying to hide this very fact, trying to hide all of these feelings away; from the Avengers, who were still getting used to it, from my parents, who knew so little about the whole truth of it, from my human friends, who knew I was in love but could never know who with. Even from so many Jotuns, who just couldn't accept me as I was, couldn't accept that I would, one day, be their Queen…

But who gave a shit about any of them, anyway?

Loki and I were the ones that mattered. So I shouted it again, into the shattered rainbows, into the shattered ice, until Loki finally pulled me from the edge by the back of my jacket and wrapped me in his arms from behind, holding me still, the two of us watching the colors again together. And we stayed like that, his arms around me, my hands holding his, which were clasped together in front of me, listening to the echoes of my shouted confession as they faded away into the distance of the floating reds and blues and washed out violets.

We watched the lights in silence, until they vanished once again, until the chasm became a chasm once more, disenchanted and frozen still. And even then we watched, even as the colors died away, one by one, we studied the emptiness, as though waiting for the return of the light.

It was a long time before either of us spoke. And when Loki finally voiced his thoughts, they were strangely melancholic, far different from what mine had been.

"They say that Jotunheim was once a very beautiful place," Loki told me, his red eyes distant. "They say that, once, there were entire cities like this. Glowing. Vibrant. Alive." He turned his head down, sighing into my shoulder. "Before the war. Before…" He swallowed.

I looked down. "Before Fraye."

He sighed again. His breath parted a few strands of my hair, moved a few more strands out from where they were tucked behind my ear. "Before Fraye," he agreed. "Before the Asgardians. Before Jotunheim's heart was stolen, ripped away."

I recognized the tone in his voice; that grief and loss, that guilt. I took his hand. "It wasn't Asgard's fault," I whispered.

"Neither was it Jotunheim's," he responded, his voice cloaking itself with traces of shadow.

"No," I agreed. I knew it was best not to fight that particular point right now, not to point out that there was still nothing that the Asgardians could have done differently. He knew. He wasn't looking to place blame; he was just hurting. Mourning the loss of what his planet could have been.

There was brief pause in the conversation. Then, Loki drew me a little closer to him, still holding me from behind. His arms tightened around my waist as he said, "Now, this is all that's left. Fractured remnants of what was once a great beauty. Fleeting and insubstantial."

"Until we get the Casket back."

Loki blinked. Carefully, he pulled his arms away from me, so that I could turn around, so that he could see my face. "You know I asked Thor. You are aware of what he said." These were not questions. Just simple statements of fact, laced with a hint of surprise.

"I know," I answered.

"And you still hold on to the hope that it will be returned peacefully?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Why _don't_ you?" I countered. His eyebrows furrowed.

"It is only logical. Asgard will not trust us with such a great power. Not after everything that has happened."

"Exactly." I turned away.

He thought my response over for a long moment, like a person who knows that the punch line is coming, knows that there is one, but can't be entirely certain of what it is. And then he sighed, giving in. "And what, precisely, is that supposed to mean?"

"That you asked Thor," I responded cryptically. When he scowled, I smiled a little and took pity on him, explaining, "You're right. It's only logical that we won't get the casket back." I skipped forwards a few steps, hopping from rock to rock, still holding on to Loki's hand so that he was forced to follow after me. "But you asked Thor. And Thor's not one to follow logic." I turned back to my fiancée and winked. "He follows his instincts. His gut. And his gut is going to say that he should trust his brother."

Loki blinked again, then considered. After a moment, hesitantly, he asked, "And you think that he will simply hand over the Casket… on instinct?"

I shrugged. "I would. Chances are, he will, too." I squeezed Loki's hand. "Trust him, Loki. Give him a chance. He gave you one or two over the years."

Loki couldn't stop the wry, twisted smirk that appeared on his face in response to that sentence. But, as he thought it over for a little longer, eventually, he conceded. "Yes…" he said slowly. "Yes, I suppose he did."

I turned back to him. "Now," I announced firmly. "Shall we get back to following our rule, and not talk about such things?"

He rolled his eyes, but nodded; and the two of us headed off to our next discovery.

* * *

White fur blended with endless white snow, camouflage in the desolate winter world of Jotunheim. The Wyr Wolf watched its two targets in the distance, watched the crack in the ground that glowed with dancing lights. Large ears shifted in the breeze, catching up snatches of conversation, hearing a loud, exhilarated declaration of love. A large black nose, on the end of a long, thin muzzle, sniffed the air delicately, catching any scent that fell on the breeze. But all other scents were muffled by white, muffled by snow. She was not used to tracking in snow, but it had been ordered of her, and so she obeyed.

Silver-grey eyes, a simple, gleaming iris in a pool of black, gleamed in the faded grey sunlight. As she took a step back, the red, ropey scars on her foreleg were thrown into sharp relief against her white fur, against the white snow. She sniffed again, trying to catch the scent in the air. She knew she was following the correct targets, knew she was after the Shadowslayers, but there was something else in the air, something that she'd smelt long ago but she couldn't identify…

"He isn't worth it, you know."

The Wyr turned on the speaker rapidly, throwing up snow as she did so, her long claws sending up a spray of white that clung to her similarly colored fur and sent chills through to her bones. She had been followed. How was that possible? She was the follower, the tracker; no one could follow _her,_ no one could track _her_ when she did not allow it. Her lips pulled back from long, needle-teeth, sharp and yellowed, as she looked at the one who would dare pursue her.

The half-breed looked up to her with sad, lonely red eyes. The Wyr Wolf sniffed the air, reaffirming what had been said about him; the stranger in all places that he walked, the traveler who did not belong, the boy who should not exist, pretending to be a man…

Yes, she had been warned of his interference. And warned to leave him alive.

Slowly, she fell out of her offensive stance; but her _defenses_ were still very much up and ready. This half-breed was a danger, of this, she was certain.

"He's not worth one more scar," the boy said. What was his name? She had been told, but did not remember. She thought for a long time as she tilted her head to the side.

Puck. That was it. Puck.

Not worth one more scar?

That only now registered, and a snarl built in her throat, emerged from her teeth. How did he know of her scars? How did he know what they meant? She pulled her foreleg closer to her body, as though that could hide the shame and guilt of those red lines, tally-marked on her skin.

"He isn't worth the pain he causes you," Puck went on, as though she did not tower above him, as though her teeth were not mere inches from his head, as though he did not fear her. As though he could have cared less about her reactions to his words, as though he merely had to say them. "He isn't worth all the blood. He isn't worth all hate, Bones."

How did he know her name? The Wyr Wolf snarled again, unable to help herself, unable to stop herself. He knew nothing of her. How dare he judge her, how dare he say these things of 'worth', how dare he even speak her name? He was a foolish boy who was swept into something that he could not possibly understand…

The boy reached forwards. Reached towards her. "I could help you," he whispered. "The Shadowslayers can _help you._ " His hand was held, palm up, as though he expected her to take it. As though she could, trapped in a wolf's form. "If you'll let us?"

The Shadowslayers!

Her head perked up. Her eyes darted to where she had last seen her targets, moving now away from her. Her eyes narrowed and a growl built in her throat, and she didn't care about the half-breed with his endless, painful, frightening knowledge.

She had almost lost track of her goal. She could not bear to do so again.

"Wait!" Puck hissed. But he kept his voice down. He, too, was here in stealth and secrecy. He, too, was trying not to be caught. "Bones, please! We can help you!"

But she didn't care. She didn't hear him any longer; she _refused_ to hear him any longer. Her mantra came to the front of her mind, blocking him out, repeating with every beat of her wolf's heart, until there was nothing left to hear, nothing left to listen, nothing left to say.

Puck watched the enormous, white wolf fade into the snow-struck distance. His shoulders slumped. He had known this would be difficult, but he hadn't even begun to imagine _how_ difficult.

He fell into the snow, sat on the ground, and watched Bones as she followed her targets. It was a long few moments before footsteps crunched behind him; but as the Shadowslayers were far away, he was not worried. He had not been caught by anyone who mattered.

"What did you expect?" Fenrir asked, sitting down beside him. "To turn her away from me?"

Puck did not respond. Fenrir chuckled.

"I know so little of what you do," the shape shifter admitted. "But one thing I know for certain." He leaned back on his hands. "That girl will always follow me; and me alone."

As Puck turned tired eyes towards him, he winked. "Loyalty above all, half-breed." He turned back and watched Bones, his sharp, amber eyes seeing her even in the snow-covered landscape. "Loyalty above all."

* * *

A few weeks later, I found myself once more in front of a mirror, trying to figure out how, exactly, I was supposed to make myself look like a perfect little political beauty. This time, however, I had an ally; and one that I was beyond grateful for.

"You are utterly terrible at this," Natasha told me as she undid my pathetic attempt at a fancy hairstyle with her deft, capable hands. I scowled at her in the mirror as she started braiding, a few simple braids that ended up as a mimicry of an Asgardian hairstyle that I'd seen a few times. The majority of my hair still fell straight, flowing and shining a little thanks to the wonder of hair product, while a few braids were pulled from the front of my hair to the back in an elvish, Lord-of-the-Rings kinda look that I liked.

"Thanks," I said meekly as she pulled her hands away again, apparently satisfied with her work. I carefully swapped out one of her bracelets with one of my own, one that I'd thought would look better with the brilliant, vivid red dress that she'd be wearing tonight. She made no comment on the swap, pulling the bracelet on while I fastened on a pair of earrings. I went into the next rooms, where our dresses waited, and pulled off my PJs, pulling the dark blue, Jotun-style gown on instead. I'd finally found a few dresses that fit the style of what would eventually be my planet, and that I could actually _wear._ I couldn't have been happier about it. Natasha and I swapped rooms a moment later so that she could do the same with her red dress. I was putting on the finishing touches of my makeup as she walked back into the room, looking extraordinarily confident, holding herself higher than I usually did. But I felt none of the old jealousy of her power, none of the old intimidation. If people didn't think I looked powerful, I didn't give a crap.

I _was_ a little jealous of how pretty she looked, though. That was always a worry with me; I was always surrounded by beautiful people, on Asgard, with the Avengers, or even on Jotunheim. I'd seen people who looked pretty super-model-worthy there, too. It drove me nuts.

But still, I held myself high and forced my footsteps into all the regality of a Queen.

Natasha and I exited the room a while later, into the next room, where the boys all waited. They were all pretty much ready, though Pepper was still messing with Tony's jacket, muttering under her breath about how he was 'such a child' and 'couldn't even dress himself properly'. Loki was sitting nearby, waiting for me, and Clint gave a low whistle as his secret fiancée entered the room. As Tony finally extricated himself away from Pepper, he joined the other three human guys- Steve, Bruce and Clint- who were all in Midgardian suits, and looking great. Loki, of course, was back in Jotun regalia, seeming quite content in his blue skin, even in front of the Avengers. And, seeing as none of them seemed to be staring for _too_ long, I smiled a little. Everyone was learning to accept Loki as he did.

Jane drifted a little, towards Pepper, as Loki held his arm out to me. He didn't say a word, and I took it, smiling at the others as we went. "See you there?" I asked.

"Sure," Tony replied. "But bear in mind, we shall be fashionably late."

"You know there's no such thing on Asgard, right?" I double-checked.

"Then we shall be trendsetters. Now get moving, Pizza Girl."

I rolled my eyes, but Loki and I headed to the portal room; and together, the two of us stepped through. We arrived in Jotunheim, where our court and council waited for us. Fenrir tugged at his collar warily as Puck waited with a straight back and a formal air more befit to a royal than a former slave. Steprin was there, with Sile and another Giant for whom I had no name, but I knew as a soldier. Avalon and Sigil, of course, were tagging along, as were a few other Jotuns that- you guessed it- I didn't know by name yet. I was working on names, but it was taking some time.

"Is everyone present?" Loki asked of Puck. The Half-Breed nodded.

"Everyone you requested, your majesty," he answered. "Present and accounted for."

Loki nodded in turn, slowly and regally, and led his court towards the portal; our entrance into Asgard.

Just before we stepped through, I tugged on his arm, carefully. _Hey._

He paused, just briefly, to look at me. I smiled at him. _You got the crown first. Remember that tonight, okay?_

He smiled. Had no one been watching, I suspected he might have kissed me, briefly. But, as it was, we had an audience; so instead, he simply led us through. _Of course, Frost._

And we walked into Asgard.

The hall we were led to by the Asgardian palace officials was large and familiar; though not the same hall that Thor's original, disastrous coronation had taken place in. While _this_ coronation _would_ take place in that same hall, the 'honored guests' were still arriving, from off-world or from out of the palace, and so, for now, we were all gathered in another one altogether. But it was still very large and very fancy and decorated beautifully for the occasion. Thor, of course, was nowhere in sight; he was being prepared for the event itself, while, for now, the crowd… _mingled._

Such was the way of politics, in the end. Just a whole lot of _mingling,_ with this person knowing that person and that person knowing this one.

And of course, I was one of those people that _everyone_ had to know; being the _Shadowslayer._ The _Future Queen._

I stiffened my spine and held myself high and ignored any eyes that were on me. Time to get this over with.

This time around, I stuck with Loki, not particularly wanting to talk with anyone alone. Loki was perfectly content to keep me on his arm, to speak with others and help my own conversations along. Politics, after all, was just another game to him; and it was one he so dearly loved.

We were just closing up a conversation with a young Asgardian man whom I'd met before- and partially remembered- when a voice immediately ruined my night.

"Loki?"

As one, we stiffened. It was a woman's voice, one of those incredibly pretty voices that sound like a melody, making you wonder what it would sound like if they were actually _trying_ to sing. A voice we recognized. Well, a voice that _Loki_ recognized; and one that I recognized through _him._ Carefully, he turned around, and, moments later, I followed.

She was even prettier than Loki remembered, which was saying something; and which immediately made me loathe her. I didn't care what _anyone_ said, this bitch was on my hate list and nothing, but _nothing,_ could take her off. I knew that, right from the second I saw her, right from the second I took in her long, beautiful golden hair, and her glimmering, jewel-green eyes. Oh, and it was just _all too easy_ to hate that perfect, elfin face, those full, painted lips and that flawless pale skin. It was _easy_ to hate that beautiful, flowing, forest-green dress that hugged all of those curves that I did not have, those shimmering blond locks that flowed in perfect waves down her back, held in place by a silver half-tiara with winged tips on its edges. And it was so much easier to hate the magical ability that Loki sensed in the air about her, that aura of power that came from a very different source than mine.

But, as easy as all of these things made it to hate this woman that I, personally, had never met a day in my life, all of it was background noise to the easiest reason of all:

The fact that she was Loki's ex.

"Amora!" Loki quietly exclaimed, genuinely surprised to see her. Amora the Enchantress, who had been a student of magic by Loki's side since long before I'd shown up. Heck, since before I was _born._ She'd been his friend for so many, many years before they'd become something more, before they'd been 'together' for a number of centuries. Before they both realized the truth; that she loved Thor. That she loved him more than she could ever love Loki.

Which, of course, made me all the warier of her. He'd known her attraction for Thor long before she and Loki had even started 'going out', as it were. But Thor had never been interested, and since she and Loki were fellow schemers, he'd thought they could work.

And, of course, there was another, sicker, more twisted edge to the relationship as well, a subconscious thing that Loki had never identified, nor wished to identify: She loved Thor.

And what Thor had, Loki wanted.

Amora went another notch higher on the hate list without even trying.

She smiled a glittering smile at him. I didn't bother pretending not to notice how she was avoiding looking at me. "Oh, I suppose I should call you 'King Laufeyson'," She said, with a quick little mock-bow and a pretty little laugh that made me want to punch her in the mouth. Her green eyes were dancing mockingly as she straightened again. Loki smiled back at her in turn. There was a cunning in both of their stares as they locked again.

"Well, I hope that shall never be necessary," Loki replied, with false kindness. I could see the trickery in both stares, and though neither of them truly trusted each other like Loki and I did, I found myself profoundly envious of this. Sure, I understood the dance of motives, the clouded lies, and I was pretty good wielding my words as weapons. Better than most humans, at least, and better than a lot of the Avengers. But this was immediate mischief, and Amora… she was so much better at it than I was. She was on par with Loki here, immediately falling into a dance with a tempo that I just couldn't keep up with. I wasn't the intellectual challenge that she was, always pushing him to be a better schemer, always playing along with his games. And I could already see it; somewhere far ahead, in the future. Loki and I get into a fight, he leaves and speaks with Amora, he tries to reconnect with the person he once was, the person he was before me, and here was the perfect representation of his old self, someone who played the game of schemers and hadn't settled down into a normal life like he had…

 _Your fears are incredibly specific, Frost._

Loki's voice in my mind startled me out of my future-worry, and I blinked as his hand tightened on mine. _And rather far-fetched,_ he added.

I looked to him, seeing the corner of his lip twitch upwards, his eyes sparkling as he glanced to me, quickly, while Amora spoke again.

"It is a different Kingship than I would have expected," she purred. "I thought that if you were destined for any throne, it would have been Asgard's."

"It seems that many shared that belief," Loki answered casually. "But I'm certain you know the tale of what changed that fate; and I'm certain you know of the woman who enacted that change." At this, Loki gestured to me, gently nudging me forwards with his hand on my back, so that Amora would not see. "My dear fiancée, Natalie Frost."

I held out my hand reflexively. I'd been introduced by people so many times in my life that it just felt right, even to people I _wanted_ to be discourteous to. Amora fixed me with a steely gaze, studying me for a long time, endlessly cold and calculating. After a moment, however, she shook my hand with her own, small, thin, perfectly manicured one.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," She told me, in a tone that all at once indicated the opposite and yet sounded kind and welcoming.

"Likewise, I'm sure," I said, smiling back with my most dazzling smile. But my tone was cold as ice, with no give in the stone that formed it. I pulled my hand back after a moment. Her hand was warm and her palms not sweating. I was only too grateful that mine were the same, but a little angry that I wasn't making her nervous in the slightest; at least, not that I could tell. I _wanted_ her to be nervous. I wanted her to be _afraid._

"It's a shame, really," Amora said disdainfully after a moment, turning back to Loki, once again ignoring me entirely. "For you to be exiled to that planet of ice, when you could have been so very _great_ here on Asgard." She sighed quietly, another musical sound that made my heart _ache_ with how perfect it was. And then, to temper her words, lest Loki take offense, she added, with a trace of laughter, "Though I suppose it is much the improvement, having once been a prisoner!"

Her laughter spilled out of her words, and she smiled beautifully, but her shining green eyes were stormy, clouded over with a dangerous mist. Like an unexpected tornado in the flatlands; I found myself swept away by the dangerous power of those eyes, and immediately rooted myself in the ground beneath my feet in an attempt to stave off the wild gusts. It was difficult, but only grew worse when Amora's eyes clicked back on me.

"I suppose you did that much for him," She said, her tone quite pleasant despite her words, despite her eyes. "You released him from a darkness; and brought him to the ice instead." Her eyes clicked back on Loki. "I suppose all Frost Giants must love the ice and snow; even those raised for…" here, she paused, then sniffed once. "Greater things?" She tacked on after a moment.

It was dangerous ground that she stepped on now, but it was clear that she found it to be no threat. She flicked her blonde hair behind her shoulders and made me hate her all the more with her words; but at least I wasn't so _jealous_ of her anymore. If Loki somehow ended up falling for this bitch sometime in the far future, after all she was saying and all she was suggesting, then he freaking _deserved_ her.

"And raised _among_ them," She added, glancing around the golden hall around her. She shrugged a little. "But, I'm certain that ice has its greatness, too; particularly concerning the Casket of Ancient Wint- oh!" She covered her hand with her mouth, cutting herself off. Her eyes were still gleaming nastily. I wondered what her angle was; if she was trying to get under Loki's skin by offering a challenge, or if she was just being a bitch. "I'm so sorry. I'd quite forgotten. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but… does that not reside in Asgard, too?"

Loki hadn't responded for a long time. His eyes were not narrowed, but still intent in his concentration, as he, too, sought out the Enchantress' motivations. "It does," he answered at last, quiet and whispery and ethereal.

As her eyes continued storming, I decided that she was just trying to create some chaos. That was another reason she and Loki had gotten along so well; they were harbingers of chaos, continually making mayhem wherever they went, just for the fun of it. Sure, this could have a deeper angle; and if I took my jealousies far enough, I could even see it as a play to get Loki back, trying to stir up his old, dark feelings, so that he would be less inclined to be with me- who would become the nagging conscience- and more inclined to be with someone with a similar mindset. But that was paranoia talking, and while it might have been true, anyway, I stuffed it aside.

"Oh, my apologies," Amora said, very insincerely. "I did not mean to offend." Her stormy green eyes clicked on me. "I'm certain that it is a very beautiful world that you have seated him on the throne of."

It _was_ a freaking attack! An attack on _me!_

My eyes narrowed on her. I couldn't help myself. It was stooping to her level, but I couldn't stop myself, couldn't force my legs to stand still, couldn't keep them from moving a step closer, couldn't keep my mouth from opening and saying the words. I smiled quite kindly at her and said, in a quiet voice, "And what throne did he sit upon _before_ he met me?" I tilted my head to the side. "For that matter, what throne do _you_ sit on, Lady Amora?"

Her eyes flashed, lightning amid the storm. Loki laughed, quietly and cordially, stepping in to intercede, his hand returning to my back. The gentle touch kept me rooted where I was as he said, "Come now, my dear; you mustn't take such offense at Amora's little jokes." His eyes danced over to the Enchantress, gleaming dangerously. He was full aware of exactly how little humor was in Amora's 'jokes', but he also knew how pointless it was to take offense at them. He felt nothing about her words, not any longer; she was trying to stir old jealousies and feelings that did not exist. There was really nothing for me to worry about.

That didn't mean that I didn't still hate her.

"Oh, of course not!" I trilled, laughing a little in response, smiling at Amora quite sweetly. "But I'm certain that one who tells such jests can surely appreciate a jest told in kind?"

She smiled, just a bare rise in the corners of her full, painted lips, a smile that did not touch her eyes. "But of course," she answered, a breath of a sound. Her gaze was no longer focused on Loki; it was intent on me, her eyes focused like green lasers, setting sights on the newest target. I continued to smile benignly at her, knowing that my own smile never touched my eyes, knowing that it never would.

We held each other's gazes for a long moment, before Amora at last turned away, looking to Loki. "I won't keep you," she said, "Though I do very much hope that we will see each other again soon." She clasped his hand in both of hers, shaking it warmly. "We have a great deal to catch up on, as it were."

Loki smiled softly. "Aye," he answered, in what sounded like an agreement and disagreement at the same time. Amora turned, her sparkling green gown flaring prettily with the movement, shining in the golden light of the world around us. Loki continued to smile as she left, and I watched her go, staring daggers at the back of her golden-blonde head all the while.

After a moment, in which no one arrived to fill the void that Amora left behind in our conversation, Loki turned to me. There was a smile in his eyes that was bigger than the one on his lips. "She's an old friend, Natalie."

"She's an ex," I corrected.

"There is no attraction there," He told me firmly, opening his mind, tearing down all walls, so that I could see for myself if I wished. I didn't bother. I could sense no lie in him, could hear none in his voice. "Not any longer. Not for many centuries; even long before I met you." He took my hand. "And now that I _have_ met you, rest assured, there is no comparison."

I wanted to smile at that, but I couldn't. Instead, I sighed. "She's still your ex. Your insanely beautiful, _blonde_ ex." I shook my head a few times. "Besides that, she's not exactly the nicest person. I'm just… Well, I don't like her."

The shine in Loki's scarlet eyes died down a little, the smile on his lips turning down. "And what do you wish for me to do about this?" he inquired quietly. "She is a part of my life. A friend, if no longer a lover. An old and fairly _close_ friend." His eyebrows furrowed. "Do you wish for me to simply… forget about her, because you feel… needlessly threatened?"

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, Loki, you're such a Drama Queen. No. _No,_ that's not what I want." I shook my head out again. "I'm not going to ask you stop being around an old friend. I know how much she means to you and… well, I'm not really _worried_ about her being… a _threat_ to our relationship. The person you were when you dated her is a _lot_ different from the person you are now." I sighed again, deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose and collecting my thoughts. "I can accept that she's a part of your past. That she's one of your friends. But what I want is for _you_ to accept that _I_ will _never_ like her."

His frown grew more pronounced. "I don't see-"

"Loki, come on. Even if she wasn't a nasty, irritating schemer, she's still the perfect blonde ex-girlfriend that every girl wishes her boyfriend did not have. Now, I will be nice, and cordial and polite to Amora. I will smile and act like everything is just fine and I will do everything within my power to not rip out those perfect green eyes of hers. But, more likely than not, _I_ will never be _friends_ with her."

His frown was now a full-fledged scowl. "That seems somewhat… petty, for you."

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?" He met my gaze, and I folded my arms. "Tell me, Loki, what, exactly, would you do if one of my exes walked through those doors right now?" I pointed at the entrance to the hall, where people were still trickling in. "You'd probably kill him. Or worse."

"True." The smile came back a little, the hard edge in his eyes turning mocking instead. "But I had rather thought that you were better than that."

"Not when it comes to you, I'm not," I muttered under my breath. The smile returned in full force. He opened his mouth to say something in response, but we were interrupted by another Asgardian; and we were forced into politics again. "Your majesty, I must say, it… it is an honor to meet you at last."

Loki immediately turned to the man, all smiles and charm, and, after a few moments, I backed away from the Trickster. He fell into conversation with the newcomer, discussing the Battle of Shadows while I slid away into the crowd like a ghost.

But I couldn't stop thinking about Amora. My eyes found her in the audience again and narrowed. It wasn't fair. I'd known about her before, sure; I knew all of Loki's exes. And most of them, I could tolerate, even if I didn't directly like any of them.

But if one of them had to be here, why did it have to be _her?_ Why couldn't it have been one of the _nicer_ ones, like Sigyn? Why _Amora?_ Why the _Enchantress?_ Why that perfect _blonde?_

Why the one that was more like Loki than I had _ever_ been?

I took a deep breath, trying to close my eyes, which were starting to burn from glaring so long, so unblinkingly, at the other woman. She didn't seem to have noticed me; I was just another thing in the back of her mind, something that she was keeping tabs on. She was aware of my presence in her life but not overly concerned by me. As arrogant as Loki had been, when I first met him.

"She's pretty."

I turned. Tony was walking up to me; his gaze had followed mine, to the emerald eyes and golden hair of the enchantress. Tony took a sip of whatever drink was in his hand- something alcoholic, no doubt- and looked back at me. "She a friend or something? You three seemed to be getting along pretty well."

I grimaced at the Enchantress, my shoulders slumping. "She's Loki's ex."

Tony's eyes immediately went wide, flashing, his head snapping back to her. "That whore!" He exclaimed, indignant.

I glanced to him out of the corner of my eye, seeing the immediate-hate-mode activated in the Iron Man. I felt my lip twitch upwards, against my will. "I thought you said she was pretty."

"Ah, the pretty ones are always the worst," he said, waving a hand flippantly. "'A pretty face can hide an evil mind'," He song-quoted. I grinned.

"Secret agent man," I sang quietly, to his smile. He looked back to me.

"She's not that pretty, anyway," he said, tilting back some more alcohol.

"Who's not that pretty?" A dangerously innocent voice asked; we looked to the newcomer and saw Pepper looking back. Tony draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up close to him.

"Loki's ex-girlfriend," he answered her. She raised an eyebrow as he pointed Amora out.

"Oh, yeah," She said, eyes flicking to me. "She looks like a total bitch."

Tony nodded. "He dodged a bullet, if you ask me."

I chuckled. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime, Nat." Tony turned to his own girlfriend, now addressing her. "But, do you know, I do _not_ like the way that kid has been looking at you all night."

I frowned, turning to him. "What kid?"

He pointed in another direction, and I followed it with my eyes. "Your half-breed friend," Tony answered. "He's not exactly _staring,_ but he's on my radar." His eyes narrowed.

My eyebrows furrowed as I found Puck at the end of Tony's accusatory finger-point. The half-breed's eyes darted to Pepper and back, down to the floor, where they became… sad. There was no other word for it; it wasn't lonely or upset or melancholic. His eyes were just… so very sad. He wrapped a careful arm around himself, almost a consoling gesture, before shaking himself out of it a heartbeat later, moving deeper into the crowd.

I looked Pepper over, quickly. I'd seen Puck upset a number of times by now, but the last time I'd seen him like this had been at a party very similar to this one. The first celebration for Thor's upcoming coronation. He'd seen someone then, too, someone who had made him look this way, someone he'd been staring at…

I tried to make the connection between that woman and the woman in front of me, between that unknown stranger and Pepper Potts. It took a moment for it to click; but when it did, my heart softened.

"Aww," I said, half out of pity, half because it was cute. "She was a red-head."

Pepper and Tony looked at me like I was missing a few marbles. "'Scuse me?" Stark asked. I smiled sadly at Puck's receding back.

"He was raised on Earth," I explained. "He came to Jotunheim when his mom died, and…" I sighed, wistfully. "He left behind a girl." I looked to Pepper. "She must've been a red-head. That's the second time he's mistaken someone for her." I looked back again. "Poor guy," I said, feeling genuinely sympathetic. Crazily sympathetic, actually; I hardly knew the kid well enough to not want him hurt this badly. But these feelings, strong and intense and unexplainable as they were, were just a part of who Puck was. Who he was _to me._ And I was starting to get used to them.

"Always a woman, eh?" Stark said, now with a little more empathy, as he drew Pepper closer into his side. "It always comes down to love and heartbreak in the end, don't it?"

I watched as Puck faded further into the crowd, smiling and mingling like a proper little diplomat, the apprentice of the king. "Yeah…" I said quietly, my heart sinking as I watched him fake his smile, force out a laugh. "Always."

* * *

"I swear."

Loki's hand tightened in mine. He was trying so hard. So hard to fight it. But the smile was coming, one way or another, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. As Thor, on one knee in front of his father, vowed once and forever to protect the nine realms, Loki was smiling and he couldn't put a stop to it no matter how he tried.

I, on the other hand, wasn't trying. As a matter of fact, I was downright beaming, grinning from ear to ear, as Odin pronounced him King.

As the helm-his crown- was placed on his head.

As the world descended into jubilant chaos, the kind that was rivaled only by the ecstatic flurry of joy following the defeat of Fraye.

As Tony and Clint whooped and hollered, getting some negative attention from a few of the stuffier, snootier Asgardians and not giving a damn about it.

Even as I brought my fingers up between my lips and let out a shrill whistle, a dim noise in the rest of the cacophony, I was smiling.

It was a good day. It always would be a good day, one that would go down in our memory forever.

 _So smile, damn you,_ I told Loki, who was still fighting it. _We wanna remember this forever._

He tried to give me a look, but the instant he saw my grinning face, he lost control of his own, and it relaxed into a smirk. Well, at least it was something. He turned back and watched as Thor stood, a king at last, and Odin backed away a few, quiet steps, receding into the background, allowing the new king to take his rightful place in front of the crowd. It was easy to see the joy on Thor's face, the triumph, the victory. But I think only his friends could see the very subtle tremor behind his eyes, as he looked out on the people that he would rule, and the other kings whom he now stood on par with. Power of that level can be very frightening, very intoxicating, very liberating and very confining.

And, in oh so many cases, it can be all four.

Thor waited for the sound of the crowd to mostly die down, the chorusing chants of 'Long Live the King' to die away. (Loki winced at the words; he'd heard them a number of times, but to him, they were the words that had sealed his pact with Fraye. They were words dipped in blood and he hated to hear them, even in the sounds of celebration for another.) As the noise level dimmed and the crowd fell into a hush, Thor stood forwards. His eyes gleamed with determination as he faced the entire crowd, scanning each and every face there, as though he could read what the world would want of him from the eyes of politicians.

 _Good luck with that, buddy,_ I thought, smiling a little. But I was happy to see this, to see him taking charge in any way. My big brother was growing up. He was a king now.

Everything was going to change.

"Ladies, gentlemen… friends." Thor announced, looking at everyone, skewering his entire audience into place with those clear, electric blue eyes. It wasn't entirely uncommon for a king to give a speech following a coronation, so the whole room fell silent to listen, though Loki and I were somewhat curious as to what he might have to say. "We have lived in… dark and dangerous times. A perilous age, of shadows and nightmares. An age of darkness."

The crowd seemed to be in agreement; there was a thin murmur, spread throughout the place in a layer of sound.

"And we have survived," Thor said. "We have fought on."

Another few mutters. Loki's eyes narrowed. What was he getting at, he wondered? Why remind the world of achievements made under an old king's rule, during the first day of his own?

I linked my pinky finger around Loki's. _Honey, he's Thor,_ I reminded him. _He's not thinking about that sort of thing._

For a moment, the Thunderer paused; whether it was because he was genuinely thinking it over, or if it was practiced, and done for effect, the crowd seemed unsure. Loki and I were not. If Thor was pausing, then it was genuine. It was real. Nothing about Thor was practiced, nothing about him was false.

It took Thor a few seconds, but it was just a brief pause. He knew what to say, what had to be said; he just ran into a little trouble in figuring out how to say it. "When I was young… I heard the stories." He looked up. "Heard the tales of great battles. I was regaled with the victories of my father; the victories of our world. Victories against monsters of every kind: bilgesnipe and dragons, evil warriors from other realms. But above all…" his eyes turned sad, here. There could be no denying that. There could be no denying the weight on his shoulders, or the fact that it was Loki whom he pegged in the crowd, whom he looked at directly, with eyes for no one else. "Victories against the Frost Giants."

I could feel Sile and Sigil stiffening beside me, could see Avalon's cold, twisted, _if-you-start-this-war-I'll-end-it_ smile out of the corner of my eye. But Loki's eyebrows furrowed; he was in no way taking this as an insult. He could see the ache in his brother's eyes, and anyone who _couldn't_ was either blind or a fool. Steprin most certainly saw it, for he remained relaxed and composed; and Puck… he had the most curious of smirks on his face as he watched Thor up on that platform, standing before everyone else.

But Loki… Loki was just curious. Wondering what Thor's angle was, what he was getting at. I turned back to the Thunderer and tried to simply listen, to discover his motivations in the easiest way possible; by letting him explain them.

"I am certain that those same stories were told on Jotunheim," Thor added, not too quickly, not too slowly, scanning the Giants in the crowd. "Of the Asgardians."

The court which surrounded us relaxed a little, easing up. This much, everyone could admit, was true.

"And then the darkness came. Then the Child of Shadow came to destroy everything we loved and cherished and held dear. And I found that it was not only my fellow Asgardians that I stood beside." Here, Thor squared his shoulders, held himself higher than ever. In his battle armor and shining silver helm, holding the hammer in his hand as his red cloak pooled down off of his shoulders, he looked kinda like a badass. I found myself smirking. Not quite smiling, but smirking. "On that day- the darkest of days- I was battling beside Jotuns and humans alike; and I would be proud to battle beside them again. Proud to call them my comrades in arms."

I smiled at him. _Right back atcha,_ I thought, though I could, of course, say nothing. But Loki knew, and he agreed.

"We once were at war with Jotunheim," Thor carried on. "We once thought the Frost Giants to be monsters, waging war against a planet that was too helpless to fight back." He stood a little taller still. "And these were the days of darkness; where all things were cloaked in shadow and impossible to see for what they truly were." His eyes started flashing. He was really getting into this. "We were blinded by the darkness, unable to tell friend from foe, striking blindly into the night. But now that darkness is gone forever. And the battles we fought, the wars we waged, they are worthless to us. They are old scars; a reminder of a terrible age."

 _He's pulling this off quite nicely,_ Loki thought, clearing his throat quietly. I tried not to smile too widely at how hard he was trying to compliment Thor in a political way; when so many emotions were being drudged up to the surface that he was having a hard time battling them back. I kept my eyes on Thor, allowing Loki a moment to pull himself together again. I, too, kept my mind on the politics of Thor's speech, and how well he was performing: even going so far as to avoid using Fraye's name, so that those in the crowd who feared it would find no cause to flinch or cringe or look away from the shining king with his gleaming, golden words.

"And any lingering resentment we hold… any remnants that the war left behind… is only the old stirrings of shadow, trying to block the light of better days to come." He looked over the crowd again, which had fallen entirely silent. "And, in the spirit of these days to come, we wish to return what rightfully belongs to Jotunheim. What was taken- not by the war, nor by the hand of any single Asgardian- but by the darkness and shadow herself."

Loki's eyes went wide. Mine did the same, darting around to see the reactions of others, if our thoughts were not the only ones following these lines, to see if we were not holding on to false hope. Everyone else was staring at Thor, Jotun and Asgardian and human alike, all glued into place by their shock. Even Fenrir's eyebrows were up. All eyes were round, all faces were stunned, all gazes intent on the Thunderer, all but one.

All but Puck's.

Because the half-breed was, of all things, still smirking.

I pushed his reaction aside as a sentry stepped forwards, handing an object towards Thor. The large, dark blue box, bigger than the Tesseract, but so much more valuable to us. I could practically seethe twins' mouths watering as the new King took it in both hands.

The Casket of Ancient Winters. It was here. It was right in front of us.

And Thor was moving even closer.

He didn't bother to call Loki up. He didn't bother to stay on the platform and wait. He stepped down from his high standing above the crowd and walked among it. People parted to let him pass, and Loki swallowed, taking hesitant steps forwards, trying to hold his head up high but almost frightened of being labeled a fool, if this was revealed to be a trick. I walked beside him, keeping my head up, sticking by his side (and I was immensely pleased to see Amora, in the crowd, giving me a glare so hot it could melt steel as I walked forward with my kingly fiancée to my kingly soon-to-be-brother-in-law.)

We didn't exactly meet halfway, as Thor had covered more distance than we had, but we _did_ meet. And Thor held out his hands, the Casket inside them, his blue eyes shining so very, very brightly.

Loki swallowed tightly and, not smiling, took the Casket. As both of the brothers' hands remained on the handles, Thor announced, "This is not a trade. It is not an apology. It is not a gift. It is returning what was stolen by death and darkness. It is putting our worlds to their just states."

The Trickster's head tilted to the side as, for a long moment, he considered Thor, thinking his actions over as if he were any other political ally/enemy. As he questioned motives and reasoning; the most obvious of which, naturally, would be to make Jotunheim feel indebted to Asgard. Or to make Jotunheim's subjects upset that Asgard had to _give_ what was rightfully _theirs._ But there was so clearly no ulterior motive in Thor's eyes that even Loki was forced to accept it; and to accept the Casket out of his hands.

He took a long moment to stare into Thor's eyes, to search them out. And then, he cleared his throat and pronounced, "Then the worlds are as they should be."

After a long, stunned silence, the crowd- led by Tony- started up another loud applause, another loud and jubilant cry. Loki handed the Casket to Steprin and shook his brother's hand- a perfect little photo op, if there were cameras on Asgard- smiling at him.

And then he brought his voice down to a murmur, so that only Thor and I could hear him. "You may make a good ruler yet, brother."

Thor grinned at him, at the silent, shared words between kin, and shared a few of his own. "As for that alliance…?"

Loki was once more battling back his smile. "It seems we have much to discuss," he said, nodding once, slowly and deeply.

And then the brothers were forced to part, as Thor reclaimed his place beside the throne, and Loki took the Casket back in hand.

* * *

"It's so pretty," I said, not for the first time that evening. I sighed wistfully. "I wish I could touch it."

Loki returned the sentiment-which I had voiced a great number of times over the past few hours- with his same, tired reply. "I wouldn't recommend it; not if you don't wish to lose your fingers to the frost."

I sighed, holding my chin in my hands as I stared deep into the swirling, blue patterns on the Casket. Our return to Jotunheim, and the announcement of the return of the planet's heart, had been met with much enthusiasm, with much joy. No one seemed overly concerned about this being a 'gift' from the Asgardians, something given back that was rightfully ours to begin with. Thor had said everything just right, kept egos from being bruised.

Loki and I were keeping the thing in our own quarters, for now, guarded by the sentries outside of our doors and by the Shadowslayers themselves. I'd been staring at it for a good hour now, just watching the blueness as it swirled in patterns of cerulean and sapphire. But, as Loki had pointed out, it wasn't a good idea for me to touch it; I wasn't a Frost Giant. I couldn't handle the cold.

I sighed quietly. "Y'know, in a perfect world, I'd be a Frost Giant as well as an immortal."

Loki was actually startled enough by this statement to stiffen in his seat, his grip tightening on the quill in his hand. "You are not serious."

"Why not?" I asked, innocently. "It'd be so much easier. No more crazy-thick coats or gloves or anything. Anything that you could do, I could do. And I'd get the cool blue skin, too."

The quill snapped in two.

"Natalie, you have no need and no use for being a Frost Giant," Loki responded harshly. "And the color of your skin is perfectly fine the way it is."

I blinked, somewhat startled by the vehemence behind his words. He started rummaging around, quite roughly, for a second quill. I realized that his hands were shaking. Slowly, carefully, I turned to him, disturbing the sleeping Jekyll, who had been at my feet. "Are you…Do you still hate them that much, Loki?" I asked quietly. "Even now?"

"I do not _hate_ them."

"Then why-"

"Because this entire world has been telling you from the very beginning that you are not worthy of your titles, and your future rank, because you are not a Jotun." His eyes were like steel and iron, unyielding and solid in their convictions. "And I have very much enjoyed watching you prove them wrong."

I thought that over for a moment, then decided that I liked that excuse enough to let the subject drop. Especially as it wasn't altogether untrue. It wasn't _perfectly_ honest, sure, but it wasn't a bunch of lies, either. I smiled a little at him. "Thanks," I said, turning back to the Casket. Jekyll seemed happier once I slipped my feet back under him, and he placed his head back on the floor, trying to go back to sleep.

We were quiet for a long few moments. Then, suddenly, I stood, once more making Jekyll move off my feet. He didn't complain, but he did give me that _how-could-you-I-thought-you-loved-me_ stare that he had. I ignored it, making a snap decision, feeling a little impulsive. There had been a question on my mind and, well, I didn't like questions I didn't have the answers to.

Loki knew what was in my head and didn't bother to try and stop me. I headed out with an "I'll be back", and a quick kiss on his cheek, cutting out of the room and heading down the hallways on swift feet. I passed by a number of curious sentries on my way, but made no comment as I headed towards Puck's room.

It didn't take me long to arrive, and I knocked twice. It opened after a moment, and Puck looked back at me.

"Lady Frost!" He exclaimed, seeming genuinely surprised.

"How did you know?"

He frowned. "I'm sorry?"

I shrugged, careless and casual, as though it wasn't a big deal. And it wasn't. At least, it wasn't _supposed_ to be. But something wasn't sitting right in my gut, and I had to know, I had to figure it out… "How did you know that Thor would give the Casket back to Jotunheim? How did you know what would happen?"

The half-breed froze. He swallowed, very tightly, his hand wrapping a little tighter around the doorframe. "Kn-Know, m'lady?" he asked, hedging.

"You were smiling," I pointed out. "You were just… smiling, like it was no surprise at all. Like it was no big deal." I laughed a little, half startled and half mocking. "I'm just curious, is all."

"Oh." He said, trying to smile back. "Oh, um… Thor told… well, I overheard him. On accident. Talking with one of his advisors." Puck rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. "I just… I was really happy to hear about it, is all. That's why I was smiling."

"Oh," I responded. "Well that's anticlimactic." I grinned at him.

"Yeah," he answered, with a little laugh. We were quiet for a few seconds, then he put in, "Um… Lady Frost, I'm really sorry, but I haven't slept well in days, so… if it's all right with you, I'll…"

"Oh! Yeah! Don't let me keep you, go, sleep, get beauty rest and all that jazz!" I grinned frivolously, shooing him back inside. He smiled back and ducked behind the door; and the second he was gone, my smile disappeared.

I turned away and started back down the halls, my footsteps fast and angry. As I walked, I tried to forget. I tried to forget the look on Puck's face. Tried to forget the sincerity in his eyes. The smile on his lips.

Tried to forget that perfectly genuine expression that he had when he was lying right to my face.

My hands clenched in fists, and I stuffed them deep into my pockets, my eyes narrowing and beginning to sting a little. Molten betrayal burned in my throat and chest. Of course the boy was a liar. I'd always known he was. My instincts had always said he was. This just confirmed it.

Because Thor and Loki had talked. They had discussed alliances. They had discussed this most recent political play. And Thor had told no one- not a single soul, save his father and the sentry who brought the casket up- about what he did, before it was done. No one else had known. No one else had been told.

So how did Puck 'overhear' him talking about it? How had _he_ known?

I rubbed my eyes, jamming my knuckles against them, and stalked back to the end of the hall.

* * *

"Good morning, beautiful," Benny announced to his girlfriend in a happy whisper, planting a kiss on her cheek and sliding into the seat beside her. I grinned at the two, but kept my eyes downwards. "And how are you today?"

Tiff smiled back at Benny, penciling in a doodle on the side of her notebook as I continued looking over my homework. We had finished our 'superhero' assignment ages ago- and gotten a _very_ good grade, thank you very much- but, since then, we'd been teaming up for a lot of things. Even things that weren't necessarily 'class projects'. So, for now, we were sitting in the campus library to do so; which was why Benny was forced to whisper.

"Feelin' fine," she answered, quite confidently. "Look! I drew you a picture!" Her voice was filled with too many bubbles for real sincerity, and she shoved her notebook towards his face with a smile that showed all of her pretty white teeth.

"Oh, cool, lemmie see," He said, taking it from her. He took a long time to stare at it, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he handed it back.

"What do you think?" Tiff asked, batting her eyelashes.

"It's a very impressive rabbit." He said, eyes dancing. She slapped his arm.

"It's your face, _dumkompf._ "

"Oh?" He took it back. "Why do I have a beard?"

"That's shading!"

"Oh!" He looked it over. "In that case, you suck at this, sweetie." He grinned. "Don't quit your day job."

I chuckled quietly as the two devolved into lighthearted bickering, and I looked back down at the assignment in front of me. We'd been at it for a few hours, and the words were starting to make my head hurt. I tapped my pencil against the desk a few times, trying to think, trying to concentrate, but my eye was caught by the shining silver of my ring. My heart twisted a little. I was feeling so homesick I could puke.

Since the Casket had been returned to Jotunheim, Loki was neck-deep in what Tony had dubbed, quite simply, 'The Renovations.' The entire planet was pretty much on lockdown as cities were rebuilt, as the world was made sparkling and new once again. Loki had _tried_ to convince me to stay away for at least six months, with him coming back to Earth to visit; but S.H.I.E.L.D. had _not_ been happy with that, and though Tony had said he could stay in the Tower, the Council had pulled rank and announced that he was not allowed on Earth soil for any duration longer than they deemed necessary. As we did not want to start a war with Earth, and we were, indeed, _trying_ to get on their good side, Loki had conceded.

So, instead, I was forced off-planet for a few weeks; just while the basic groundwork of the main citadel was being reconstructed. It had been two weeks already, and while Tony was sneaking Loki on-planet every night so that we could stay together… well, he didn't usually come into the Tower until very, _very_ late. Which meant that I typically fell asleep long before he came back; thus leaving me to deal with-you guessed it- a shit ton of nightmares.

It had been a rough two weeks.

Because of this, I had taken to crashing at my parent's house on occasion; or my own apartment, which was my temporary living space until S.H.I.E.L.D. got off of its butt and helped me with the reconstruction of my old one; which they were putting off, because, quite frankly, it wasn't exactly their top priority. Every so often, Tiff invited me over, and I'd spend the night with her, but this wasn't such a typical thing. We both had nightmares, true, but hers couldn't get me killed. Mine _could_ kill her, what with the mighty Bubble of Death.

And I just didn't _like_ sleeping at my parent's house. Every time I went there, I was reminded of the fact that, despite the absence of any psycho supers who were trying to take over the world, I was still lying to their faces every time I saw them. But it was just so _impossible,_ trying to tell them that I was engaged to the man who had split the family apart for thirteen years. To the man who had tried to kill me. Tried to kill us all.

How do you tell your parents that you're marrying a former dictator from another world?

But above all of this was the fact that, when I didn't sleep at the Tower, there was absolutely _no_ chance that I would get to see Loki. At least while I was there, I could wake up when he arrived, say hello before we both fell asleep. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. I missed him. I missed Jotunheim. And sure, I was happy to be back in the Tower, my old home, but it was so absent of the people who had _made_ it home that it just… wasn't the same. Sure, Bruce, Steve and Tony were still there, but Loki was gone. Steve was mad at me most of the time. Thor was on Asgard, being a king. And Natasha and Clint had moved out, to their own houses, though of course they were at the Tower frequently. Just… not frequently enough.

 _And don't forget me._

I stiffened in my seat, whirling to the sound. The quiet chuckles filled the air as, swallowing, I turned back. Tiff and Benny were so wrapped up in their goochie-goochie-goo-fighting that they didn't even notice. I took a deep breath and let it out, slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Yeah. How could I forget her?

Fraye's voice had come back to my head. I wasn't entirely sure when it had started, or _why_ it had started. I mean, I was doing better. My 'episodes' were getting less frequent, and when they _did_ happen, I usually had a bit of a warning in advance, a way to hide somewhere and wait them out. I'd been doing better with my eating problems, too; and though I couldn't slow down when I had food in front of me, not just yet, I didn't have to chew gum or jerky all the time anymore. I was doing _better._

So why was I still hearing her in my head?

It didn't always happen. It didn't happen often. But it _did_ happen, and it was scaring me. I supposed that the road to recovery wasn't always just a simple, gradual slope upwards; there were bumps and dips in it, ups and downs, good days and bad ones. And I'd been having a few weeks of bad ones; it was really only natural that some of the other badness started coming back.

 _Maybe I should see a shrink,_ I thought, and had to fight a bitter laugh. It only went to show that even the shrink of the superheroes had to be crazy, had to need help of her own. How else would I understand them?

 _We're all mad here…_

I pushed the thoughts out of my head and tried to ignore the feeling of Fraye's black-eyed stare on the back of my neck. She was not real, not anymore, she was not here. I'd done everything that she'd wanted from me, and then some. She had no right to interfere with my life, not anymore.

"So, are we still on for tomorrow?" Benny asked. I forced my mind to the two lovers' conversation; maybe _that_ would get Fraye out of my head. Maybe love could chase away the hate.

"Naturally," Tiff answered, with a careless little hair flip. Her red-brown curls bounced and fluffed out with the movement of her fingers. "Any time I get free food is a good time for me."

Benny grinned. "So the only thing I'm good for is my wallet. I should have guessed."

"Don't be silly." She gripped his collar, pulling him down to her swiftly and pressing her lips, hard, against his. "You're also good for that." She added when she pushed him away again.

He sighed theatrically. "So I'm a wallet with lips," he lamented as I covered my eyes.

"Guys, please keep it g-rated. This is a _public_ library."

"Public Displays of Affection are healthy in a relationship," Tiff retorted, quite primly, as she started sweeping her things back together. "We've gotta get out of here, Natalia. You good for the rest of that assignment?"

I nodded. "Go, abandon me, I really don't mind." I sniffed, as though truly injured, and Benny made sure to 'accidentally' whack me in the head with his backpack as they left. I grinned, waving as they turned the corner, and turned back to my work.

Those two. They just… had it so easy. They were normal people, y'know? And I was the superhero psychiatrist who was engaged to the former king of the planet. I sighed heavily and started packing my own things, waiting for a few minutes so that I wouldn't bump into them on my way out. I still had some homework to do, but if there was no one around, I knew I'd rather do it at the Tower. Or at my apartment.

 _You really want to bring me around the other Avengers?_ The purring voice whispered into my ear. _Give me something else to play with?_

My hands and teeth clenched, and I threw my backpack over my shoulders, forcibly yanking the straps so that they grew tighter, cutting into my skin. _Get the hell out of my head,_ I growled silently at nothing, trying to ignore the sweat that was beginning to form on the back of my neck. The last time I'd said those words to a strange voice in my mind, that voice had actually belonged to a person. A real, living person, who ended up trying to kill me.

I could only hope that history wasn't repeating itself as I all but ran from the library.

I took a taxi to my apartment, throwing myself on the bed inside and groaning. My head was spinning. I wanted to get back to work, to get focused, but I couldn't. I wanted to talk to Loki, get him to help me out, but I couldn't. I wanted to regain my sanity, and, guess what?

 _I couldn't._

I lost count of the hours as I lay on that bed, trying to ignore the sounds of my heart in my ears, the sounds of my own breathing, trying instead to lose myself in the endless noise of traffic from the city streets below. And, when that didn't work, I listened in on Loki's thoughts in my head, on the orders he was giving and the responses he was getting in return.

Worthless. Nothing helped. Nothing stopped me from cringing, from waiting for Fraye's next strike, a strike that would never come, a blow that would never hurt me. But I was still waiting, waiting in darkness, not sure when the pain would hit me next, not sure if it ever would, or if I had been simply left behind in this blackness…

I stood, charging to the bathroom. My fingers and toes were tingling, my stomach twisting as I lurched, dizzily, towards the bathtub. I stuffed the plug into the drain and started the water, sitting on the tub's edge, and watching the water run into it. Sometimes showers or baths cleared my head. Maybe that was what I was thinking when I started the water, but even if I _was_ thinking that rationally, by the time it was full, I was not. I wasn't thinking about anything at all.

Loki finally realized what was going on about two hours later; a testament to both how busy he was at the moment, and to how guarded my mind became against anyone and anything whenever I got like this. When he managed to pull away from his duties, managed to get Stark to drive him to my apartment, managed to come inside, it was a pretty sorry freaking sight that greeted him.

He sighed quietly. "Oh, Natalie."

It was a lonely sound, those two words that he said. But I couldn't hear them. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't see or smell or taste or touch or anything. All I could do was sit where I was and stare at nothing.

The bathtub was overflowing, the water having long ago run cold. Tony- who had come inside with the Trickster- quickly shut it off as Loki went to my side. I was sitting inside the bathtub, fully clothed, utterly drenched. My hair was still dry, and the only evidence that I had even tried to wash up at all was the streaking stain of soap on the front of my shirt. I didn't remember doing that. I didn't remember anything. I just stared at the wall, at the white blankness of it, and wondered if this was how it felt. If this was what she did, in those days after her planet died. If she just stared at nothing. If there were even days after she had met us, in which she couldn't move at all.

I wondered if she was sitting beside me, right now, trying to move, so that she could hurt me. So that she could draw more blood.

Maybe.

Tony- under Loki's direction- found the cupboard where the towels were stored, and he quickly began cleaning up the water that had spilled. Loki didn't want to leave my side, but staying directly beside me didn't seem to be helping anything, so eventually, he helped out. It took a long time for the bathroom to be dry again, and even the carpeting outside of the door was soaked. It squished beneath their footsteps, and though they pressed some towels into it, there didn't seem to be much they could do.

As they worked, Tony tried to talk; but it soon became clear that Loki was unwilling to speak about what happened, and eventually, the Iron Man shut up. By the time he left, he only had one question:

"Will she be okay?"

Loki considered. And then he shook his head 'no.'

"But we will survive the night," he added after a second's silence. "So you needn't worry yourself with that."

He left a little while later. He had tried to comfort me, to say something, but any time he came near, I panicked. Loki told him it was because he was an Avenger; that there was nothing any of them, not even he, could do to stop it. It was the Avengers that had dragged me down into this mess, it was that part of my life that had made me this way; and right now, they could do nothing to drag me out of it.

So instead, Loki just waited beside me, hoping for the best.

Only that's the thing: the best didn't happen.

Loki waited for an hour before he tried to 'contact' me again, on my faraway world. But the second his hand landed on my shoulder, I'd pushed him aside, thrown up my shield, thrashed about and splashed water everywhere. Loki pulled back, quickly, and let me sit in silence once again. After a while, the shield died down, and I was left staring at the wall. He tried again after another half-hour, worried about the cold temperature of the water I was sitting in. Again, he was unsuccessful, and it frightened him. It hadn't been this bad before. It had _never_ been this bad before.

His eyes went to the scars on my arm. To his name. And he closed them, trying to block out the truth, trying to block out the voices that were in his own head. The voice that seemed to have crossed over from my mind, to torment him instead.

 _So was it me who did this? Or was it you, my little plaything?_

He stood, exiting the room. There was nothing he could do to help me now; he was a part of my mind, yes, but he was still an Avenger. He was the man I loved, sure, but he was still once the person who had hated me. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say.

So there had to be someone else.

He went into the other room and picked up the phone. He knew how to work the contraption, was quite capable of using it; he knew, after all, from my mind; if not from firsthand experience. He dialed a number- one from my memory, _our_ memory- and waited with it pressed to his ear, waited as it began to ring.

It rang a few times before it clicked; and a person's voice came through on the other end. "Hello?"

Loki swallowed. This was where things became more complicated. "Anna Rose?" he asked, quietly, almost tentatively.

There was a long silence on the other end. Loki wondered if she had guessed who was speaking from just those two words. What she said next made it abundantly clear that she did. "What-" She cleared her throat. "What do you want, Loki?"

Loki cringed, closing his eyes. Why was he doing this? Why was he putting himself into the willing line of fire from this mortal, of all people? His hand clenched. "It's Natalie," he answered, knowing full well that he was speaking both to Anna Rose, _and_ to himself. "She needs you."


	8. Soldiers and Spies

**A/N: Hey guys. So, like I said, I'm going to try and update more frequently from now on, though that means that the chapters will likely be a bit shorter. I do have to say, however, that it** _ **really**_ **helps when people review. I'm having a really hard time staying motivated to write/edit this right now, and every review helps. Even if it's one word, it's appreciated. I just… really need to know that people are still reading this.**

 **And as always, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

I didn't remember my mother coming into the room. I mean, I remembered _seeing_ her at the door, through Loki's eyes. I still have _those_ parts of my memory, still have what _Loki_ remembers doing. But from my own eyes, in my own head, there was… nothing.

She gave Loki a long, hard look at the door. It wasn't exactly hateful, or unfriendly; just cautious. She hadn't seen the man since directly after the Battle of Shadows, when he and I had spent a few days of recovery at her house. And, well, a lot had happened since then.

"Where is she?" My mother asked after a moment.

Loki stepped aside gracefully, gesturing with one hand to the bathroom door.

I didn't remember my mother entering the bathroom. Didn't remember her seeing me there, sitting in the cold water, with my soap-stained shirt and my soaked clothes and my dry hair and drier eyes. I didn't remember the look on her face.

Loki did.

And it was not a look that I wanted to put in my mother's eyes ever again.

She stayed there for a long time, just… watching. Then, in a reedy, painful whisper, she asked haltingly, "Sh…Shouldn't we… Shouldn't we take her to a hospital? Or… or something?" her words died down as her throat seemed to close. Loki didn't flinch away or cringe from her words; rather, he watched my mother closely, looking at her, deciding what to think of her. He hadn't truly formed an opinion of her before he and I had gotten together; other than to think of her as 'just another mortal that Natalie was attached to'. And, since we _had_ gotten together, he hadn't really had the chance to update that opinion.

And now… now Anna Rose was looking at the broken shell that her daughter, the little girl she'd raised, had become. Now she was seeing a nightmare and she was revealing her true colors and who she was, and her first instinct… her first instinct was to try and get help from someone more suited to the task than she was.

And yet… Loki could see it. She wasn't unafraid, not exactly… but she was still looking this truth in the eye, holding herself with an undeniable strength.

But his moments of study ended as he looked back to me. As, once again, he saw the distant look on my face. "What hospital?" he asked, quietly. "Where could she go, where we can tell them why she is this way? Where she can speak freely about her torture, without having to interject her words with lies?"

My mother kept staring.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Loki went on. "She trusts no one in S.H.I.E.L.D. but Barton and Romanoff; and, occasionally, Fury."

"What about-" Anna Rose cleared her throat, swallowing convulsively. "What about Jotunheim? Asgard? Surely there are people who could-"

"She does not need a Healer at the moment, Lady Frost." Loki said, looking down. "And she would let no one near enough to move her. Right now…" his voice grew quiet. "I believe she needs you."

There was quiet, in that little apartment bathroom. The only sound was the steady drip from the leaking bathtub faucet.

And then my mother swallowed, tightly. She closed her eyes and, pulling herself together with a slow, deep breath that went all the way down to her stomach, she opened them again. "All right." She turned to Loki. "Then I want you out. Let me take care of this."

The Trickster hesitated. "That may not be such a-"

"I'm her mother." Her eyes became abruptly stern. Loki's eyebrow went up. "I can take care of my own daughter quite well. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

He nodded once.

"Then you can wait in the other room," She said, firmly, stepping up to him so that he was forced to step back. She took the doorknob in hand and pulled the door closed, cutting the two of them off from each other.

Loki hesitated by the door. And then he sighed, deeply.

 _That tenacity runs in the family, I see._

He shook his head, slowly, and walked to a chair, sitting down to wait out the rest of the night.

I don't remember what my mother did, not at first. In fact, the first thing that I remember, since turning on that faucet, was the feeling of her fingers, running through my hair. She had a plastic cup in one hand, one of those that you sometimes find in bathrooms, like you might store a toothbrush in, and she was using it to pour water over my head. She was exceedingly gentle, her hand over my forehead so that none of the water spilled into my eyes, pulling it back and gently wringing it out of my long hair. I later realized that the water was warm; that she'd started up the faucet again.

She poured some shampoo onto her hands; I could smell it, somewhere in the air. I didn't pay attention, not really, but I didn't flinch away when she started to run it through my head. I didn't freak out that she was behind me, that she could strike me at any second. In those few moments, I was the little, trusting kid again, and she was mommy, washing my hair. Just like every other mommy. Just like every other daughter.

As she did this, she hummed, just quietly, an old, stupid kiddy lullaby. One with a simple, bright tune, that you didn't really have to think about. And when that tune ended, she started another; and when that one ended, she kept going, until the melody devolved into something tuneless, random notes scattered into the air. She didn't have a pitch-perfect voice or anything; and, in fact, she was flat a number of times. But it was my mommy's voice. It was a voice that, somewhere, I remembered. A voice that brought me back.

She kept washing my hair; shampoo and conditioner, telling me every so often what she was going to do next, like she did when I was a little kid, so that I'd close my eyes or keep still or not freak out when the water splashed all over my head. I did what she told me to as reflex; not because I actually knew what I was doing.

When she'd rinsed out the last of the conditioner, she found my comb in its drawer and ran it through my hair, pulling it all back from my head, squeezing a majority of the water out with her fingertips. Then she braided it, just like when I was small, before that one day that I decided that braids looked stupid on me and I never wanted to do it again. That one day on that one whim, all coming back to me, a memory I'd forgotten, as my mom brought me back to myself.

Loki was right. At that moment, I hadn't been an Avenger, who needed one of my fellow comrades-in-arms. I hadn't been a woman in pain who needed her fiancée. I'd been a scared little girl who needed her mommy.

As my mother found a hair band and tied off the braid, I started to recognize what had happened, how I had gotten here. It was a faint recollection, dim, far away, and it didn't matter, not enough. Not enough for me to care about it. But I looked down at myself and saw my still-soaked clothes, saw my own surroundings, and realized something of consequence: that I was cold. I couldn't feel it; I was too used to cold by now, and I had a Frost Giant in my brain, after all. But I knew this water would be cold. I didn't know how I knew; I just did. And somehow, that knowledge made me start to shiver.

My mother stood and headed to the door; Loki was already waiting there with a fresh change of clothes, still keeping an eye on the situation as best he could, from my eyes. She took them from him, nodded once, and closed the bathroom door again. Gently, she tried to get me to stand up; and though every limb felt a thousand times heavier than it should have, I eventually managed it. She pulled the plug out of the bathtub and let all of the water drain away as I took the clothes from her.

I was starting to feel a little more alive again; and somehow, I managed to motion for my mother to turn around as I got changed, even if I couldn't quite manage to get the words out. She smiled just slightly and obeyed, rolling her eyes a little.

It took me a long time to remember how shirts worked, but finally I did, shoving my arms through the sleeves and avoiding my face in the mirror when I lowered the shirt over my head. It was not a good idea to see a mirror right now.

I wrung a little water out of the end of my braid, into the bathroom sink, and turned back to Anna Rose. She was still facing away, not knowing that I was finished changing. The sight of her made me tremble a little, made me feel weak, and I tapped her shoulder. When she turned, I collapsed into her arms.

There weren't tears, but there were sobs. She wrapped her arms around me and held me there as I cried into her shoulder, as I tried to be a child again, tried to be the innocent little girl who hadn't seen the darkness of the world. Who had never met Fraye. Who hadn't been hurt by anything more than a boo-boo that she'd gotten falling down from her bike, the frilly pink one with the training wheels. Who hadn't been intentionally struck or damaged a day in her life.

I only managed three words that night. Three words that I repeated, over and over, as I finally admitted it to someone else. Someone besides the Avengers. Besides Loki. As I finally admitted it to myself.

"It hurts, mommy."

And she stroked my hair and held me in her arms and listened to me say this, over and over again, she replied, "I know, sweetie, I know, it's okay now, everything's going to be okay now…"

She was wrong. I knew she was wrong, because I couldn't see how she could be 'right'. Even if my life was getting back on track, even if I was marrying Loki and going to college and becoming a Queen and hanging out with the Avengers and making human and non-human friends, even if all of these things were happening, it didn't change the fact that these were the things of my future. Fraye was the thing of my past.

And the future can always change. For better or worse, it can change.

But the past can't.

I cried myself out, still without tears. And when I'd finished, my mom led me into the other room. Loki stayed away, at a respectable distance, not wishing to remind me of what had happened the last time that someone had promised me that everything was going to be okay when we both knew that it wasn't. Not wishing to let me fall into the abyss again. My mom led me to my bedroom and let me lie down and pulled my blanket up to my shoulders and kissed my head goodnight as she tucked me in. My mom was my mom and I felt safe, for the first time in a long time I felt safe, as she sang me to sleep. She didn't need to sing long; the moment I let myself relax, the moment I found myself capable of it, the world crashed into nothingness around me, and I passed out.

Loki hovered by the door, watching Anna Rose as she finished her out-of-tune song, even though she knew I was already asleep. He waited as she carefully, silently walked out of the room, looking at the floor as though she expected to have to avoid stepping on my toys as she went. Loki backed away again, silently, as she closed the door behind her. The look in her eyes so clearly said 'we need to talk', so, still silently, he led her into the next room and gestured for her to sit down. She did so, and he did the same, the two of them sitting opposite each other.

She glanced him up and down and her gaze seemed to focus on- of all things- his hand for a long moment. But then she folded her hands and, sighing so very heavily, she rested her forehead on them, lowering her head and hunching over a little, as though she were about to cry.

Loki waited for her to say something, sitting straight in his seat. When she did not, he took the initiative, saying, "Thank you."

She lifted her head just enough to give him a long, wearied glance. "I did not do it for you," she answered. Contrary to the words themselves, her tone did not seem in any way hostile or unkind. Just tired. Loki supposed it would exhaust any mother, to see her child this way.

There was another silence, this one longer than the first. Loki was, quite frankly, uncertain of what he _could_ say. It was rare that words failed the Trickster, but here was a time in which he could find nothing, nothing at all, to ease the silence. And so he kept quiet; best to let the world believe that this silence was intentional, then to open his mouth and confirm that it was not.

At last, Anna Rose lifted her head again. Her eyes were unreadable, her face much the same. In becoming the leader of a revolution, she had learned many things; and one, it seemed, was the art of keeping your emotions locked away, where they could not be seen.

"So how long have the two of you been engaged?"

Loki looked up to the woman in shock. Her stare was forced into accusation, but her exhaustion bled through. She was tired. Tired of this battle; of _all_ of these battles. He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry?" He hedged, examining her expression ever more closely now. She looked down, as though entirely aware that he was trying to read her eyes.

"The ring," she said quietly. "She has one. You don't. So you're not married yet." Her long brown bangs hid her eyes, shadowed them, as her head lowered even more. Loki concealed a wince; in his desperation to remove me from the edge that my mind had gone to, he had forgotten to remove the ring. "But you are engaged," Anna Rose went on. "The question is, _how long?_ "

There was an edge to her words, one that was clearly caused by anger. She knew she had been lied to. Knew that this engagement was not a recent development. Loki frantically searched for the correct answer. His first instinct was to lie, to protect the woman from the truth, to protect my secrets from the ones I loved. But was that truly what I would _want_ him to do? Even _I_ had not decided yet if I should tell my parents _when_ the engagement had actually occurred, if they should know that I had been lying to them for all these months, or not.

He didn't respond, not for a long few minutes. It surprised him, that he could be so capable in decisions that concerned the welfare of his entire world, but when it came to such a simple, trivial matter, when it came to _mortals_ , he found himself… blindsided.

At last, his eyes flitting away before he forced them back again, he replied, "Since the Battle of Shadows."

My mother buried her face in one hand and quietly groaned out a few curses in Spanish; curses that Loki momentarily pretended not to understand. He went on, "When I returned to Asgard as a prisoner, the Jotuns arrived to declare my right to the throne. I did not wish to accept another throne at the cost of losing Natalie, so I did the only thing that seemed logical. I announced to the world that she would be staying beside me forever." As she looked up at him, over her hand, he added, in what he hoped was a consoling tone, "It was very politically based; both my offer and her acceptance. But we could not bear to lose each other again." There was another pause in the conversation; and my mother did not take her eyes off of Loki. He felt compelled to say more. "She did not wish to lie to you. But we had been together for perhaps a week before we were engaged; and she did not entirely believe that you would understand her reasons for doing so. Not after everything you had been through. Everything… that I put you through."

"She lied to protect us." My mother's tone was dead, immediately setting off alarm bells in Loki's mind. It was too flat, too calm.

He watched her carefully for a moment before answering. "Aye."

She rubbed her eyes with one hand. "Do you know how many times she's done that to us since she met you freaks?" The words were surprisingly vehement, surprisingly like a snarl. Loki's eyebrows shot up as she turned a glare at the ground, her face flushed with anger. "First the 'internship' at the Tower. Then she found out that _her_ _father_ wasn't responsible for his actions- and she said _nothing._ Thenshe let you back on-planet and didn't say a word, and after _that,_ she fought with a shadow-controlling _monster_ that she told us _nothing_ about until the thing was _in my office!_ And then, _and then,_ the real icing on the cake, was that she _knew_ that you were going to give her up to be _tortured_ and _killed,_ and all she did was cry about it without telling us _why,_ as though _somehow,_ that would keep us from _worrying_ about her!" My mother's hands began shaking. Loki wasn't certain that either of us had seen her so… _helpless_ , in our entire lives. And she was not the type to take helplessness well. "And now she thinks that we can't _handle it_ that she's getting _married?"_ She demanded, her words a growl, as she looked back up to Loki, looked him in the eye. "When do the lies end? When she's _dead?_ Or will it go on from there, will we still get phone calls and letters from the Avengers, all pretending to be Natalie because she made them promise not to tell the truth?"

Loki swallowed. "She never meant to-"

"Does that _matter?_ "

His hands clenched a little on the armrests. His eyes narrowed. "Of course it matters," he found himself snapping back. He so rarely did that, to her. So rarely lost his temper around normal humans. "Because _you_ are not the only one she would have had to _tell._ There is still the issue of _Cameron Frost."_

Anna Rose flinched. Loki took a deep, calming breath. This was not a conversation he should allow himself to become so… _fervent_ over. It was not a matter of life or death.

"You may wish to know the unpleasant truth over the protective lie," Loki said, quite tonelessly, once he had pulled himself together again. "But Natalie was not only thinking of you. She was forced to consider the fact that Cameron may have done far worse than simply _worry_ if he learned that we were engaged to be married; and engaged so _quickly._ " His eyes sharpened, turned diamond-hard and glittering. "She was protecting more than just _you_ with her actions. She was protecting her entire family."

"We don't need protecting," my mother answered, looking down. Her hair once more hid her eyes.

"Don't you?" Loki asked, his words now colder. "Then you saved _yourself_ from Fraye, did you?"

Anna Rose looked up sharply, her eyes crackling. But Loki continued, without any heed for the danger in her eyes. "Do you know, this is all getting rather tiresome. Repeatedly, I must hear everyone's complaints about how Natalie lied to them, for one reason or another. But in the end the truth stands that no matter how many times she told you _petty lies,_ she _saved you._ She saved your _life._ " He locked gazes with Anna Rose and demanded, "Or did that somehow slip your notice?"

"They weren't _petty-_ " My mother started, anger clear on her face.

"I am a man _created_ by lies," Loki retorted before she could get the chance to finish. "I am full aware of their effects. And the point stands that, regardless of whatever she told you, in the end _she saved your life._ She _saved the life_ of _every person_ who still exists _on this planet."_

"And we lost thousands more," she replied; and it was not a mother of a hero who spoke now. It was the leader of a revolution, who had watched soldiers die around her. But then the mother came back; the mother of the torture victim. "We lost _her._ We lost the person she was. And… and the Avengers could have saved her, could have saved _them_ , could have stopped it from happening, if she had just given them a _chance-_ " Loki was almost surprised to hear the little quiver in her voice, and realized only then that she had been force-fed this lie. That she was trying to believe it herself. That, at the same time, she was trying _not_ to believe it.

"They could not," Loki cut her off again, less sharply this time, his words cooler and more distant. "There was nothing to be done to save those lives. If she had not allowed what happened _to_ happen, then the method we used to eventually annihilate Fraye would have been… inconsequential. She would have lived on to destroy us all."

Her eyes sharpened again. "Well, of course, you _would_ say that, anything to defend-"

"To defend who?" Loki interjected. His voice was still faraway and frozen. "Myself?" His eyes gleamed as he said, "You do realize that this version of events places the guilt over those lost lives entirely on _my_ shoulders, correct?" his hands tightened, into fists. "After all, it was my own foolishness that kept our mental connection from reaching its true strength and potential. My own selfish desires that would have kept me from fighting so… vehemently, against Fraye, if I had not seen, first-hand, what the true worth of the mortal throne was to me." He sat back in his seat. "So tell me, if I did not truly love Natalie, did not truly believe that she did what was right and necessary, why would I invite that blame onto myself?"

Anna Rose did not respond.

"She saved your life," Loki repeated. "She saved the life of every person on this world and you never once thanked her. Are you aware of that?" His head tilted a fraction to the left. "Are you aware that all you ever said to her was how sorry you were, for what had happened? That you were so overjoyed at her return, but did not stop to think that she had walked to her execution, a long and painful death, to save you? It was you that she was protecting; you, your husband, the Avengers. It was you that she made me swear to leave alive, so that when the world returned to its natural state, you would live on. She gave up on not only her own life, but _my_ life as well; the life of the man she loved. She had me leave the Avengers alive so that they would one day kill me. So that they would one day return the world to peace. So that the nine realms would be safe. And, after all she gave up in order to enact this peace, to save these worlds, to save _you…_ you never once thanked her."

There was another silence, as Loki waited for her to find an answer to this. She found none. Her lips remained sealed. So he carried on.

"Other worlds thanked her," he said. "Strangers, whom she had never met. They chanted the name of the Shadowslayer. They clasped her hand and claimed how much of an honor it was to meet her, to see her, to stand beside her." It was a brief flash that went through the Trickster's eyes, but it was a flash nonetheless. "And her friends and family only berated her for her lies."

There was yet another silence, longer than any of the others before. Loki didn't bother to speak again. He had said what he meant to say.

Anna Rose looked at the ground, studying the carpet, her eyes tracing patterns in the rug. Her hands folded loosely in her lap, one thumb rubbing the other.

Finally, she spoke, in a quiet, non-confrontational voice. "There was a boy, in the revolution. A quiet kid, maybe fifteen years old. One of those ones that I was always scared for and proud of all at the same time, thinking about how brave he was, to do the things he did." She kept her eyes on her hands and did not look at my fellow Shadowslayer. "And… he wanted to be a poet. He was always scribbling little rhymes into everything, reciting quartets to anyone who would listen. It drove everyone insane." Here, she paused, thinking. Loki knew that there was a point to this conversation, knew that it was often my mother's way to speak in riddles and stories. So he waited it out, ever patient.

"And… I'll never forget what he said, after the war. After you were pronounced dead and the world returned to normal. After a week of normal life, when we met up again, with some of the others." She cleared her throat. "He said, 'I was so frightened to die. But now I'm alive, I'm ashamed of that fear. I'm ashamed of the things that I did, the heroes I relied on. Ashamed that I could not fight for myself. Ashamed that the Avengers saved me, and I cheered them on all the while. Ashamed that the world was a safe place because of someone else that I could only watch. And I realized that I hated those who saved my life; because how dare they let me live in their debt?'" She laughed, quietly, mirthlessly. "And you know, it was the single most poetic thing he'd ever said in his life." Her folded hands grew tighter together, holding each other for strength.

"I don't hate Natalie. I never could. But I was so… so _scared_ for her. Every moment was lived in terror that I would never see her again, wondering if she was dead or alive. And when she came back…" She trailed off.

"How dare she make you worry," Loki filled in, almost silently. My mother's eyes closed. She nodded a few times, in slow agreement.

"This world is… a mess. A jumbled, chaotic, insane mess. And I couldn't protect my little girl from it." Her hands started to tremble, just slightly. "So how dare she protect _me?_ "

There was another long silence; and then Anna Rose seemed to remember who she was talking to. Her head whipped up, her eyes snapping to Loki. "And all these lies, that she keeps claiming are to keep me safe… I don't want them. I don't want her to have to bear them, to deal with them." She shook her head. "She became indestructible. But not invulnerable. And she doesn't… she doesn't _need_ this. Not after all she's been through. Not after all this. Not when she's… like _that._ " She gestured with one emphatic hand to the bathroom that I had previously been occupying.

Loki didn't answer. Not yet, anyway. Anna Rose groaned quietly, running her hands down her face, taking a few slow, deep breaths to regain her composure. Loki thought over her words as she did so.

"And this isn't a lie about worlds," my mother spoke again. "This isn't a lie about life or death. She lied to us because she was scared that we wouldn't approve of the man she chose to marry." She looked up at Loki. "And the most terrifying thing is, she's right. I don't approve. And I know that Cameron will not." She sighed heavily. "But it's what she chose. It's what she wants. And it's the only way… the only way that she'll ever be happy." Her eyes went back to my bedroom door.

"I've known that for a long time," She admitted in a whisper. "I've known that you… that you love her as much as she loves you. That you… that you can make her happy. Because… I saw what you were without her. I saw what you became, I was there, I saw what it _did_ to you. And…" she sighed again. "And, even now, knowing what I think of you, you still called me here. For her sake. Because she needed me.

"You said… you said, once, that you owed her a debt. A debt that was more than just your life; it was… your everything. And I know… I know that, because of that, you'll do everything in your power to keep her safe. To protect her, to make her… happy." Anna Rose looked up to Loki, and the two held each other's gazes for a long time. "So if this is what she wants… if _you_ are what she chooses… then all I can do is wish you both the best." She leaned back in her seat, watching Loki. "But I want to be very clear: the lies have to end. Cameron will be told of this. Soon. If not by Natalie, then by myself." Her eyes were shining and bright and clear as she asked, "Am I understood?"

Loki fought a very small smile. She sounded, in every way, like a mother. "Aye, m'lady," he said, with all the polite cordiality that he could infuse into his words. Anna Rose stood, moving stiffly, and, nodding, turned to the door.

"Then I wish you good night," She said primly. She hesitated by the door, turning back just long enough to say, "And you are both to come to a family dinner within the next two weeks. The Avengers are also invited; and I will not tolerate any absences."

And then, without waiting for Loki to respond, she breezed out of the door.

* * *

"Come on!" Clint shouted at me. "Stop trying to hit me and _hit me!_ "

Why did Loki think that this would be good for me? Why did he think that I would find Clint's constant Matrix-quote yelling and dodging explosions and getting sweaty and tired make me somehow _better?_

Oh, yeah.

Because it totally _was._

"Big talk, Hawk Boy!" I exclaimed in turn, striking at both his face and stomach. He blocked both attacks and moved to footwork, kicking out at my shins while I danced back away from his flailing feet. Too late, I realized that he'd gotten my attention on them instead of his fists; and I only barely managed to bring up my arms in time to block his strike. "But trust me; you don't _want_ me to hit you. You'll be bleeding for a week."

He grinned at me, bringing his face in close so that he could leer over at me. "Prove it," he said, in a looming, ominous voice.

"If you insist!" I answered, trying to sound bright, but he caught my stomach with a flat palm, knocking me back a step and pushing some of the air out of my body. The words died in a bit of a strangle, and I had to gasp a few times, very quickly, to try and restore some of my oxygen.

It had been two days since my big freak-out. The first day, I'd stayed on Jotunheim, babying my emotions and not letting myself get overly emotional in any way, shape or form. No extremes of joy or sadness or anger or fear or pain. Nothing but neutrality.

Today, however, was a different story. While I still wasn't letting myself get too stressed over anything, I'd been allowed back on Earth, away from Loki; who, despite his royal duties, had been hovering over me the whole day like a proper little mother hen. He was so… protective, sometimes.

And, now that I was on earth, I was alternately beating the crap out of and/or getting the crap beaten out of me by my fellow Avengers. Clint was just another in a long line and, quite frankly, it felt _good_ to be fighting like this again. Fighting with friends, for fun, as opposed to battling for my life. Fighting was easy. It was simple. My body knew what to do and my brain could shut down for repairs. All my brain had to do was think of witty- or not so witty- responses to the trash talk that we sent flying about through the room.

I took Clint down after a while, which seemed to impress him a little, though he was swift to remind me that Natasha had kicked my ass; and that I wasn't so fierce, battling all these immortals, that I couldn't have my butt handed to me by a human every once in a while. Truth be told, it kinda irked me, that I'd lost to the Widow; she and Clint were my greatest combat teachers, fighting with no abilities, and they always say that the student is meant to surpass the teacher someday.

It looked like that day was still a while off.

"All right, let me back in," Tony said, flinging the white towel that had been on his shoulders to the side. Tony was surprisingly good at martial arts -Wing Chun, mostly- but I'd beaten him a number of times today, so he was out for vengeance. I smiled pityingly.

"Ah, come on, Toaster Man, this is just getting sad. We've wiped so much of your blood off of these mats already; wouldn't it be better for everyone if you just donated it?"

"Very funny," he said, putting his guard up; his typical relaxed, loose, unclenched hands, one arm close to his body, the other slightly extended. I smiled and, as Clint stepped out of the ring, waited for him to give us the all clear before advancing on Stark. We locked strikes for a long two minutes before a loud music selection started playing at random: startling us both and throwing us off. I recognized the tune and skidded back, away from Tony, on light feet.

"Sorry, that's me," I said, indicating to where I'd left my phone outside of our fighting rink. I went to the border of our arena and scooped the device up, hitting the green button and pressing it to my ear. "Yello?"

"Natalie? It's Ben." There was a pause. His voice sounded strangely hoarse. "Can I… Can we talk?"

I lifted my eyebrows, leaning against the wall and panting, glancing at Tony. He was stretching out, rubbing some of the places where I'd gotten him. I weighed the variables. Benny might need me. But, at the same time, _I_ kinda needed me. I needed to stay sane right now. If Benny was having some kind of problem right now… well, I couldn't deal with his emotional problems on top of my own.

After a moment, still considering, I responded, "Shoot."

"Well… uh… actually… I was hoping we could talk face to face, maybe?"

I froze. 'Face to face' meant 'problem.' It meant 'desperate'. It met 'immediate need of friend'. I scowled. He had a girlfriend, didn't he?

But then, Tiff might very well be the problem… that's why you kept your friends around after you became a 'couple', wasn't it? To bitch about your other half to?

I looked down at myself. My skin was slicked with sweat, and I looked… gross. It would take me a while to clean up, even if I _did_ have the emotional stability to help someone else out right now. Which, I knew for a fact, I _didn't._ I hesitated.

"Well… I can't really get away right now, Benny," I said slowly, apologetically. I made my remorse clear in my voice and feared that it wouldn't be enough. "I'm sorry, but-"

"Oh. No. That's okay."

It wasn't okay. Dammit, I knew that it was _not ok._ It was anything _but_ okay. I could hear it in his voice, could sense it in his pauses and hesitations. Stark was beginning to tap his foot impatiently as, unable to help myself, I blurted, "Actually, you know what, I can meet up for a bit. Meet me at our usual Café in twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes. Yeah. Sure. Sounds great." He was quiet for a moment. "Thanks, Natalie."

"No problem," I lied through my teeth. Because it _was_ a problem. Because whatever he was going through, however much I wanted to be there for him, if I wasn't careful, I was going to end up snapping again. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't bear to end up like that again, to worry Loki and the Avengers and my mother like that again. But it was too late; I'd agreed.

"See you then," I said, then hung up. I threw a towel over my shoulder and started out of the training room. "Sorry guys," I said to the Avengers still inside. "Something came up."

Natasha looked at me warily, but she did not try to stop me from leaving; and neither did any of the others. They let me pass without a word of protest.

I got ready quickly, jumping in the shower for a few minutes to clean off some of the sweat and grime before changing into another, more presentable outfit.

I took one of Tony's cars to the Café, where Benny was already waiting with my usual order. He slid it over to me as I sat across from him, a glove pulled up to my elbow that covered my scars.

He looked awful. I tried to disguise my apprehension, but whatever this was, it was bad. And I had to be a friend. I had to be there for him. But my heart was already pounding in my throat as it was. I couldn't afford to feel anything too deeply, not yet. Not right now.

I couldn't slip up right now.

Still, seeing the purple shadows under his eyes, I did feel sorry for the guy, even though I didn't know what, directly, was wrong. And I was, after all, a therapist. Helping others helped me in return. It was just the natural order of the universe.

I clasped the large, highly caffeinated beverage in front of me, leaning closer so that our meeting felt more confidential. "So what happened?" I asked. He swallowed, taking a large gulp of his drink.

"I told Tiff…" he coughed, cleared his throat, tried to pull himself together, but he couldn't meet my eyes. His face started turning pink at the cheeks. "I told Tiff that I loved her."

My eyebrows shot up, and I blinked, surprised. Well that was certainly unexpected; they'd been making googly-eyes at each other only a few days before, and they hadn't said the L-word yet?

Well, then again, despite her extremely relaxed demeanor and… well, her _extreme_ displays of affection, Tiff _was_ a very guarded person. And, well, she _had_ to be.

She was a murderer, after all.

I folded my hands in front of me. "And how did she react?" I asked, though from how he looked, I already had a fairly good guess. But even that guess wasn't nearly as bad as his answer.

He laughed a little, a hiccup of sound. "She broke up with me."

My eyes widened. _Ah, crap._

"She just… she _freaked out,_ Natalie. You should've seen the look on her face, like she was… like she was _so scared_ of me… and she said that she didn't feel the same way, that she couldn't, that she was sorry… and she broke up with me and she just… left."

"Oh, Ben," I said, reaching forwards and taking his arm. "I'm so sorry."

He pulled his arm away- not roughly or unkindly- and ran his hands down his face, giving a _why-me_ groan as he did so. "I just… I just don't know what went _wrong,_ you know? I thought… I thought she loved me. I _know_ I loved her. I mean… I _really loved_ her, y'know? She…" He flushed again, looking up at me a little nervously. "She meant… everything to me."

My eyes softened as he went on. "I've known the way I feel about her for a few _weeks_ now, but… I know that she's really… you know, guarded. I mean, she kissed me, like, before our first date, remember?" I nodded. Oh, did I remember. "But she never… I mean, she has a lot of secrets. And I get that. After the war, well, we've _all_ got secrets." He shook his head. "I thought I was being so careful, and she still… I dunno, I guess she really doesn't feel the same way…"

"Benny," I cut him off. He'd started to ramble. The guy was in a bad place, that much was obvious from first look. I felt my hands beginning to shake and tried to quell the nervousness inside of me. Benny needed help. I just wasn't good enough to help him right now. Why couldn't he have called one of the others, like Jade or Adrian? They'd both known him for a long time, they were both pretty close. And Adrian would probably know more about how dudes felt after breakups than I would.

Besides, Tiff was my friend. I couldn't do the usual bashing-of-the-ex routine here until I knew the full story, heard it from both sides. Still, I did what I could. "You didn't do anything wrong, okay? Understand that. It doesn't matter if you think you said the L-word too soon or you think that everything you did was wrong. You did those things in that moment, so at that moment, they must have been the right thing to do." I gripped his arm again, more firmly this time, holding his eyes steadily. Trying to be a stern voice of reason when the world had descended into emotional chaos. "Now you said it yourself. Tiff's _guarded."_ I gentled a little, attempting to remove the edge from my voice now. "You said she freaked out, right? Maybe… Maybe she's just not ready right now. And, in that case, it's _definitely_ nothing that _you_ did wrong." I sat back in my chair again. "Get angry and upset and cry all you want. But don't blame yourself, okay?"

He looked at me for a long time. Then, distant and still not entirely convinced, he nodded a few times, slowly. It was the best I was going to get, so I didn't keep pushing it.

Of course, I couldn't help but think of the reason _why_ Tiff had 'freaked out' and pushed Benny away like that. She had killed people in her life. She had straight-up _murdered_ some dudes. It wasn't self-defense or anything. It was cold-blooded revenge. It was the type that I had once been incapable of doing; but that I now understood better than I understood life itself.

But revenge, particularly revenge with an ending like _that,_ breeds the worst kind of self-hatred imaginable. I could almost hear the thoughts going through her head as Ben told her that he loved her: _he doesn't deserve someone like me. He can't be in love with a murderer._

Of course, that was bullshit, and the past was the past, and I was going to do my best to remind her of that… but that wasn't what I should be doing right now. I shouldn't even be _here_ right now. My hands were shaking even worse as I pushed aside the worry, the fear that I would hear _Her_ voice in my head again. And of course, the worry only made me worry more. _Any_ extremes of emotion were to be avoided right now, but I knew I couldn't. I couldn't hide away from my life, not just now, not just yet.

"I just don't know what to do," Ben moaned, lowering his head onto the table until his forehead _thunked_ against it quietly. "I…"

"Natalie." A hand fell on my shoulder; I jumped, going for the knife that was in my belt, concealed by my shirt. I barely managed to keep from removing it when I saw the speaker: Steve. Ben looked up to him, surprised, not seeming to care enough to be embarrassed by his horrendous appearance.

"There's been an emergency at work," he said, quickly. "We need you. Now."

Immediately, my heart rate quickened. I glanced back to Ben, nervously, apologetically. He considered Rogers for a few moments, then seemed to notice the look on my face. He waved his hand. "Go," he croaked. "I'll be fine."

I nodded, searching Loki's thoughts. He seemed unaware of whatever this 'emergency' was, so I informed him quickly that something was up. He considered for a long few moments, waiting for more information. I stood from the table, having already paid for my drink, and told Ben, "You shouldn't be alone right now. Is Adrian at home? Maybe you two can-"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Adrian."

Guilt stabbed in my gut, but emergencies among the Avengers tended to mean death tolls in the thousands if our reactions weren't quick enough; so, mumbling some quick apologies, I ran out the door after Steve.

He got in the driver's seat of a car. I glanced to the one that I'd taken from Tony; but we could pick that up later, if we had to. Right now, I wanted intel, so I stuck with the Soldier. I sat in the passenger seat and said nothing until he had backed out of the parking space safely, then taken us out onto the road.

I was quiet as he drove, then asked, "So what's going on? Aliens? Monsters? Radioactive sewer sharks?"

He shot me a weird look and shook his head. "Nothing," he answered. "We just had to get you out of there."

My eyebrow went up. "Ex- _cuse_ me?"

He sighed, quietly. "Natasha had me follow you when you went out. She said that if you looked like you were in any heightened state of worry, I was to pull you out, one way or another." He turned a corner, his hands sure on the steering wheel. It had taken him a while to learn how to drive again, but now that he knew, he seemed very capable. "The last thing we need is for you to go into a meltdown and wipe out New York with that shield of yours."

I stared at him for a long time. "So I just lied to my friend?"

"It got you out, didn't it?"

I thought that over. And then, though I felt guilty for it, I sighed heavily, with shaky relief. "Yeah," I said quietly. "Yeah, it did." As soon as I let myself feel it, the relief was all-consuming. I relaxed in my chair, still feeling the trembling in my hands. "Thanks, Steve. I owe you one."

"No problem," he answered, though it seemed to not entirely be true. His hands tightened on the wheel. There was something in his eyes, something he wanted to say; and I only then remembered that Steve and I were still on not-so-great terms. I swallowed. Out of the frying pan…

We sat in silence for a long few moments, and I tried to think if I should say something. But if I brought up this argument now, it might get heated. It might get ugly. And I might go nuclear.

Still, the elephant in the back seat wasn't getting any smaller. And the longer we stayed in studious, uncomfortable silence, the longer I had to get jittery. I chewed on my lip, shifting about a bit until I could sit on my shaking hands. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths and tried to think relaxing thoughts. Sunny, sandy beaches. Bright and warm and calm, with the sound of the waves pounding the surf like the world's heartbeat.

 _The heartbeat getting faster and faster…_

Not working. Okay. I switched tactics, and thought instead of home. Not my apartment Home, not my parent's home, not the Tower Home; Jotunheim home.

I thought of the snow. The ice. The beautiful auroras that lit the canyon from the inside. I thought of how the cities would look when they were built from that reflecting ice.

 _Being challenged in the open and in the colors by a Jotun with more muscles than sense._

No-go. I flicked my eyes open again and resumed chewing on my lip. It wasn't bleeding yet, but I had time. I looked out of the corner of my eye to Steve, trying to see his expression. It was set on the street, his hands firm and resolute on the wheel. He was sticking to this silence as ferociously as I was. I closed my eyes.

Oddly enough, after a few more tries with the typical 'relaxing' things- still ponds, quiet rivers, etc- it was imagining my training with Clint that eventually relaxed the tension out of my muscles. I went over the steps in my head, the battle plans and strategies, and I found my heart slowing. The tingling began to fade from my fingers. I went through Avengers in my head, though I stayed away from imagining a fight with Steve. I also stayed away from any others: imagining a fight with Fenrir was too much like imagining strategies against a Shadow Hound- and I obviously couldn't let myself think of them- and even a pretend fight with Puck made me want to retch. Even _fighting_ Fraye in my head made me remember the helplessness, the powerlessness of it all; so I stuck with what I knew instead.

Though I did find it somewhat odd that, even loving Loki like I did, I had no problem imaging a battle with _him._ I put it down to the fact that training with _any_ of the Avengers was pretty much our equivalent of going out for coffee and pushed the lingering reservations from my mind.

It was a little while before I could open my eyes again. It was a little longer before Steve spoke.

"I'm…" He cleared his throat, then spoke brusquely. He was curt without being harsh, his words concise and straightforward. "I'm sorry. About what I said."

I blinked and looked to him. He sighed, his grip relaxing on the wheel, so that his knuckles were no longer white. I looked at him, waiting out an elaboration, and after a moment, I got one. "Natasha… she pulled me aside. Told me I was being an idiot. And… well, she was right." He shrugged. "You thought you were doing the right thing. And, for all anyone knows, you were. Even if that meant lying to us. Even if that meant…" he swallowed. "Even if that meant that you would have died."

I looked at him. Surprisingly enough, I didn't feel any extremes of joy about this. I didn't even smile. I just watched him, quietly and resolutely. He went on after a minute.

"Back in the war… every soldier I fought by knew that they could one day make that ultimate sacrifice. We had all accepted it. We had all _signed on_ for it." His eyes danced to me before turning back onto the road. "But… I never thought of you as a soldier, Natalie. You came to us as a civilian, and, while, I haven't thought of you that way in a long time… while I've thought of you as one of us… well, not all of the Avengers are soldiers or spies." He sighed quietly, a breath of a sound. "It just took me a while to think that maybe… maybe _you_ were."

I swallowed, turning away, no longer looking at his face. My head lowered. "A Soldier?" I asked quietly. "Or a Spy?"

He paused. I could feel his eyes on me, knew he wasn't watching the road for a dangerously long amount of time. But when he turned away, I had my answer. "I thought the former, once. I hoped." I could hear him swallow. "But you know which one you truly are. We both know."

I thought that over. I guessed it was true. Soldiers talked with their compatriots. They told each other their plans and discussed their battle strategies together. Sure, a higher-up might lie to those under them, but the Avengers were equal with each other, following the orders of none, save their own, unspoken leader. Save the Soldier beside me.

Yes, it was spies who lied. Spies who used deception and treachery for their ultimate goals, for the good of all. Not soldiers. And not leaders.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how much it hurt, that Steve thought of me like that. Not exactly as a comrade in arms; but just a spy, playing for the same team.

And then I thought it over again. And the hurt gave way to a spark of something else; anger. Anger mixed with hope. It was an odd combination, doing strange things to my worry-addled heart. "Well, then I'm with good company," I said stubbornly. "Because some of the greatest people I've ever known were spies."

He hesitated. I think he sensed the sharpness that I put into those words, the barest, thinnest edge. He smiled, just slightly. "Agreed," he answered lightly.

I felt any animosity die down. Steve was… well, he was Steve. He was family to me, like all of the Avengers, and I couldn't be mad at him for long. I relaxed again, letting all the tension fade away into nothingness.

"So what happens now?" I asked, after a few beats of silence. "Are you ever going to trust me again?"

"It's not about trust," he answered. "I just… understand, now. That you're really one of us. That you accepted the fact that you might die for this cause. That you signed on for it. And that I can't be stupid enough to think I should convince you out of it." He tipped a little, wry smile in my direction. "It never worked on me."

I smiled back at the Captain. "True enough," I answered. I looked away. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry it had to happen."

"But not sorry you did it."

"Never."

He chuckled, a dark, black sound that had no humor to it. "I suppose I'll have to live with that," he said, cheerfully enough.

The car drove on, the anxieties melting away. My family was whole again.

Mostly.

* * *

" _Please, sir, you don't understand-"_

" _You are an incredibly valuable asset, Miss Lively. As of this moment, you are the closest agent we have to her."_

" _The Widow-"_

" _Is compromised, as far as Miss Frost is concerned. She will be of no use to us. You can be. You_ _ **will**_ _be."_

" _I'm too close to this! Please, you can't…"_

" _We can't, Miss Lively?"_

" _I… I've been compromised, too."_

"… _Please repeat that, Miss Lively."_

" _I've been compromised. I've gotten too close. This mission has failed. I'm formerly requesting an extraction and to refuse would be a detriment to your cause."_

" _You cannot-"_

" _I can, sir. There is no other way. Extraction is my only option."_

"… _Very well, Miss Lively."_

"… _Sir?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _What will you tell her? What will you tell them? About… what happened to me?"_

" _That's quite simple, Miss Lively. The same thing that has been told for you in the past."_

" _Do you really think that's wise? That she'll do well without… without a goodbye? That she'll… accept it?"_

" _It's only natural, Miss Lively. After all, you know the statistics: only one in three leave a note."_

* * *

Puck cursed quietly as my staff cracked across his knuckles. I laughed as he stuffed them into his mouth, as though trying to suck out the pain. "Nice moves," I taunted. "You're never gonna be able to protect yourself if you keep on like this, kid."

"Stop calling me 'kid'." He mumbled over his fingers. I tapped him on the head with the staff, a gentle knock on his skull.

"Stop acting like one, then," I teased. He growled and made a lunge with the staff. I blocked it easily, knocking it to one side and bringing the edge of my staff to his gut. He jumped back, and I grinned. "Come on, Junior, I'm not even that _good_ at this."

He scowled, finally pulling his hand out of his mouth. "Well, I never claimed to be, either," he told me. "Archery is my forte, not… not hitting people with _sticks._ " He held the staff away from himself, looking at it with disgust; the type reserved for something gross found stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

"Hitting people with sticks, I've found, can be quite entertaining." I told him.

"And you've mostly learned that by practicing on _me,_ " he grumbled, rubbing his head, where I'd gotten him a little harder a while back.

I grinned. I liked training with Puck, despite not liking actually _hurting_ him. It was like how Loki trained him in magic; it was nice to give the boy a way to protect himself. It was frightening, to think he might use it against us, but the half-breed had been nothing more or less than a model citizen, so far. I only hoped that this inexplicable trust could remain unbroken.

He sighed and stepped back, out of the area marked off for training.

"You gonna let her treat you like that, kiddo?" Clint asked, calling from across the arena. "Come on, show some backbone!"

Puck gave him a weary little glare. Loki had dumped Puck on Earth, as he'd done a number of times now, to be babysat by the Avengers while he dealt with his own royal duties. He was still so swamped, the poor dear. And Clint himself had only been at the Tower for the past few days because he was… well, bored at his house. He'd invited Natasha along, and she'd joined him; to spend time with him, I was sure, and to get involved with training once again. We were all strangely happy to be doing that.

I knocked Puck's hand again. "Come on, short stuff. Back to work."

"I am _so_ much taller than you," he growled.

"You are a Jotun shrimp and I'm gonna eat you for breakfast," I taunted. "Now _hit me._ "

He tried. He succeeded, after a moment, grazing my arm, and I nodded approvingly. "That's more like it."

We fought like this for a long time. It was so easy. It was… relaxing. I _was_ glad to be back to fighting again; it made the whole world settle back into easy-to-manage spaces. All the heart pain went away as I dealt instead with the physical kind; and I wasn't so upset about that physical pain because I was dishing it out in return. It just felt… natural.

We traded blows until we had exhausted ourselves, then sat on the sidelines and drank down a water bottle each, gasping and laughing and throwing some more trash talk. Clint and Natasha took the field, and watching them fight was another experience altogether. Their fights tended to last longer than mine and Puck's did; but then, they seemed more evenly matched, with similar training.

Puck and I watched until my phone started ringing. I scowled and pulled it out, unsurprised to see that it was Ben. It was the second time he'd done that in the past three days; though at least, _this_ time, he hadn't interrupted a fight. I pressed the 'answer' key on the screen and held it up to my ear. He needed me. I needed to be there for him. He was still going through a breakup, as far as I knew, and I hadn't had the chance to talk to Tiff yet. I'd tried to call her, but she hadn't answered. That wasn't unusual, though, so I'd just decided to talk to her when I went back to school tomorrow (Loki had finally decided to allow me back, since I was doing a little better).

"Hey, Benny," I said. "What's up?"

"Hey, Natalie," he replied. He sounded even more morose than he had the day before. Poor sap had been hit hard. "I wanted to… Where… Where are you?"

"I'm staying over at a friend's house," I answered cavalierly. Unlike a lot of people, Puck didn't seem so surprised by how easy it was for me to lie. He was looking directly at me, listening to my words, but when I said that, he didn't even blink. I guessed it wasn't _entirely_ a lie, but it did make me think about how often I _had_ lied in front of him, and he'd seemed so… cool with it. "I'd come over if I could…"

"Yeah. I know. I get that." His tone said the opposite. He seemed so… dejected.

"She'll come around, Benny," I promised. "You know Tiff. She's stubborn as hell, but she's got a good head on her shoulders. She'll get the picture eventua-"

"What?" he cut in, sounding distressed. "No. No, oh, hell, no, Natalie…" his voice lowered, became strained and hoarse. "You mean you… You don't _know?_ "

I felt something inside me go very cold at this question. Those words rarely announced something good. But still, I found a little bit of unreasonable hope; I didn't know that they got back together, maybe, or that she had talked him into just being friends…

But his tone told me it was anything but that. "Know what?" I asked, trying to keep my words cheerful, following along that false sense of hope.

"Natalie… Tiff is dead."

For a second, I was numb. I could feel nothing. But then his next words came, and I felt one sensation: that of all the air leaving my body.

"She committed suicide last night."

* * *

I'd had days in my life that seemed to last forever. Days that I thought would never end. But I can safely say that the day I got Benny's phone call was one of the longest days of my life.

Tiff's house was still a crime scene, so we couldn't go in, couldn't check it out. I didn't ask any questions about how Benny knew; I had a sickening feeling that he had been the one to discover the body. In fact, I didn't ask _any_ questions at all. I didn't want to know. I couldn't handle it, not yet.

Benny, Jade, Vicky and I were all in the same place for the rest of the day; at Vicky's house. Her mom brought us lunch and snacks throughout the day, and though we all picked at our food, few of us seemed to have the stomach to actually eat it. Eventually, Jade had gone, left the house, saying she couldn't handle it and she needed some time by herself right now. I understood that. Right now, all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. The only person I had _any_ intention of speaking to after I went home was Loki.

Ben said that she'd hung herself. I kept turning that fact over in my head. It didn't make sense to me. Tiff was a gun nut, with three handguns registered to her name; she could have easily used one of those, if she was so determined to die. And she wasn't the _type_ to do things the long, slow, drawn-out way like that…

I pushed the thoughts away. What did it matter that she wasn't the type to do that when she so obviously _was?_ When she already _had_ done it?

 _And why didn't she leave a note?_

I bit my lip to fight back the screaming demands that were trying to leap out of my throat. I wanted to lurch out of my chair, find Tiff's body, and just shake her, scream into her face: _What did we do to push you away? What did we do to turn you to this? What did we do that was so awful that we didn't even deserve a goodbye?!_

Tears broke out on Vicky's face; not for the first time. She was cradled against my side and sobbing intermittently as we awaited a phone call that would give us some more news; something from the police, or the coroner's office, I assumed. Ben just kept saying, "The call will come soon… it'll ring… we gotta wait…"

I'd never seen him so distraught. There were outright tears on his face, and every so often he would moan, rocking back and forth and clutching his stomach and chest as though afraid that his guts might fall out. He kept staring at that cell phone, waiting for the call, as though maybe it could bring her back to life. As though maybe someone would say that there had been a mistake.

As though maybe that would change everything.

It had happened before in my life. The suicide had been a lie. I almost laughed in my agony, laughed because I couldn't cry; the last time my best friend had killed herself, she had saved the world. And no one knew the difference between that and now, between the heroism and the endless guilt that Tiff must have been facing, to do this to herself.

How long had she been planning this, I wondered, to take such drastic action when Ben had confessed his love to her? To freak out so horrendously. Did his love instill doubt in her? Did it make her reconsider, only to flee to the death she'd been seeking out for so long now? Or did his loving her only push her further to it, because she was angry with herself, for letting him love her when she knew she would only hurt him in the end?

Or was it sudden? Was it just a random act of desperation, thinking she had ruined her last chance with Ben, or some _other_ desperation that I knew nothing about?

I almost ripped my hair out in frustration. _What could we have_ _ **done,**_ _Tiff? What did you need that would have_ _ **helped**_ _you? Why didn't you_ _ **talk**_ _to us?_

 _What was so awful that you couldn't even say a word until it was too late?_

I wanted to be there. I wanted to be at her house, at the 'crime scene', and I wanted to do some investigating for myself. It had, of course, occurred to me that it was not _Tiff_ who was responsible for her death, but another culprit altogether. A man from _my_ life: Murmur. But the Jotuns had placed barriers around Tiff's home; we would have _known_ if someone with ill intent had tried to enter that place. All signs pointed at what it was; an open-and-shut case, a suicide, with one victim and no suspects.

But that was bullshit. Because there hadn't only been one victim. Looking around at this room, at all the people mourning with me, told me _that_ much.

I stayed there until Vicky's mother suggested that we go home; quite politely. She'd offered to let us stay if we didn't _want_ to leave, but Ben had insisted on not infringing on her hospitality. We hugged at the door before we separated.

"Why, Natalie?" Ben whispered into my ear. "Who hurt her that much that she was driven to that?"

"I don't know, Benny," I answered. He looked at me, lost and alone, and it was only in my head that I added, _but I fully intend to_ _ **find out.**_

But not tonight. Tonight I was exhausted. Tonight I was alone. Tonight I couldn't go and run to my friend Tiff about the pain I was feeling. I couldn't offer to take her to a shooting range that I knew about, an offer that I'd been planning for weeks. I couldn't ask her when her birthday was, or give her the gift that I'd been hiding under the bed in my apartment for months when it arrived.

All I could do was stumble back to the Tower.

Natasha, Banner and Tony were both waiting for me when I got back. The others, I'd assumed, had gone home. I headed to the portal as Natasha asked, "What happened?"

I looked to her. I hadn't said anything when I'd gone, and I hadn't let Loki say it aloud, either. Hadn't let him tell the Avengers anything, hadn't let him leave Jotunheim to do so. It had been too new, then, too fresh. If I didn't say it, then it wasn't real. But now I looked at my superhero family and struggled to get the words past the lump in my throat.

"Tiff is dead," I croaked after a moment. "She killed herself."

Immediate shock and pity went through all eyes, the expected array of emotions that grated against my heart. Only Natasha did the unexpected. Only Natasha gained a look of such murderous hate that I had to turn away.

"Natalie," Banner said, soft-spoken. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't really wanna talk about it," I said, gently shrugging off the hand that he put on my shoulder. He let me go, through the portal and back into Jotunheim.

Loki was there, waiting for me, when I got back. He didn't say a word; he just took me by the sleeve and pulled me, roughly, into his arms. I let myself fall into the embrace, feeling my knees turn into pudding. It was all so wrong. It was all so awful.

It hurt so much.

I didn't talk for the rest of the night. Loki, incredibly frightened of what this would do to my mental health, took me to the far edge of the palace, where no one else would be around to get hurt if I lost it. I didn't protest. I was worried, too.

But he stayed with me. He stayed with me and held me in his arms and let me go numb. Because I didn't cry; not with tears, not with dry sobs. I just stayed there and stared off into the distance and I shut off the pain, like I shut off all other pain in my life, and Loki stayed with me as I became an empty void, letting the lack of feeling swallow me whole. He even pushed aside the guilt he felt for being the likely cause behind Tiff's pain; it was his regime that had killed her family, after all. And he pushed away his anger at her, for doing this to me. For making me feel this way. He buried this crazy tumult of emotions so that I would not have to feel it, so that the only confused emotions I would have would be my own.

But I didn't want them. I wanted _none_ of them right now. All I wanted… all I really wanted… was to be numb.

And I'd had plenty of experience with _that_ before.

I remained that way, and Loki remained that way, until I passed out; and Loki quickly followed me into dreams.

And into nightmares.

* * *

"You disgusting _bitch."_

The Black Widow's fury was always the cold, silent kind. It was what had always terrified her enemies, what had struck fear in the heart of those who faced her in the battle. And it was what sent the Shadow Crow's heart fluttering now. She knew the voice of the person behind her, the owner of the hand on her shoulder; and it was all she could do to throw it off and start running down the hall. Other agents shifted out of the way, startled at her mad scramble for escape. Even more startled when she was struck by one of the Widow's stingers; the little blade nicked her at the ankles and dug painfully into her calf, and she cried out, stumbling. That was all it took, that little stumble. And then the Widow had brought her to the ground with a sinuous, twisting kick.

She dragged the Shadow Crow, kicking and fighting without screaming, to the Council Room, where Fury was speaking with the blank faces on the screen. She flung her into the room, her red-brown hair tangling over her face as she fell painfully onto her shoulder, crying out as her fall knocked the stinger that was still buried in her calf.

" _Suicide?"_ Natasha Romanoff demanded. Her voice was the coldest of ice, the hardest of diamonds, and her eyes glittered with years of repressed defiance. The Shadow Crow looked up to her in fear; she had long respected the Black Widow's work, had followed and admired it. Even if she had blown her cover. Even if joining the Avengers had ended her espionage assignments. She was a force to be reckoned with and Shadow Crow had always known it. She had hidden her fear the first time she had met Romanoff, but she hadn't thought that she was fooled. This mission _was_ as loathsome as Natasha thought it to be, she knew that now, but she had pulled out and was still facing her fury…

"Miss Romanoff, kindly remove yourself from this room," one of the TV screens said. "We are conducting a meeting that is beyond your clearance level." It paused. "And you, Miss Lively," he added, in a slightly less hostile tone. But only slightly. "Have yourself seen by a medic."

The Black Widow's eyes still burned. She acted as though the man had not spoken. And when the Shadow Crow tried to scramble up, the Widow placed a foot on her leg, close to where the stinger was still buried in her skin. "Stay where you are, Tiff," She ordered in a deadly mutter, beneath her breath, not looking at her fellow agent. The Shadow Crow swallowed painfully and decided to obey _her._ The Council could kill her for certain insubordinations, but they were not currently the ones standing above her with very clear murderous intent. Prioritizing and all that.

"With respect, sir," Natasha went on, in a tone that made it intensely clear that she meant every _dis_ respect possible. "I have kept my silence about the mission regarding the Shadow Crow and Natalie Frost-"

"As you were _ordered to,"_ a female's voice cut her off firmly. Tiff cringed, afraid how Natasha would react. She didn't. She didn't react at all.

"But I will not stand idly by any longer. Not after this." She removed her foot from Tiff's leg. "You will implant Tiffiana Lively back into the field. And when the state of Natalie Frost's mental health is in better condition, you will inform her of her true nature." There was no give, no yield in the steel that constructed Natasha's eyes. She hardly moved. Her wrath was quiet, perhaps, but at the moment, she was livid. It seemed that if she moved even the slightest half-inch, she might just take the life of everyone in the room; even those who were only there through an internet connection and a TV screen.

"If you do not, then I will tell her immediately," Romanoff added.

"Is that a threat, Widow?" One of the screens asked. Tiff slowly, carefully sat up. As the Black Widow allowed the movement, she took the stinger in her hand and assessed the damage. It would be better served to leave it in for now; it was holding back some of the blood flow.

"Was that not clear?" The Widow asked, breathing silent white flames.

Tiff could see some of the Council members stiffen in their silhouettes. "In case you have forgotten, Miss Romanoff, you work for _us._ You are under our employ; _and_ our protection."

A threat answered with a threat in turn; but Tiff almost wanted to laugh at the weakness of it. Romanoff did not _need_ protection. Just in case the Council had forgotten the people that she had surrounded herself with in days of late.

Natasha seemed entirely unimpressed by this response. She had made more than enough enemies in her life, enemies that the cloak of S.H.I.E.L.D. _did_ protect her from. That was true enough. But she had also taken on a planet-killer.

And S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't even lifted a finger to help. Not truly. Not when it mattered. In fact, at that point, S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't even truly _existed._

"Natalie has already lost one friend due to a 'suicide'," Natasha said coldly. "A false tale told by your accounts. If she learns that she 'lost' another in the same way because of _you,_ there is no telling the damage that will be done." She stood firm, planting her feet in the ground. Tiff looked silently back and forth between the two. It was a terrifying power struggle; and she was startled by how mismatched it was. The Council didn't even see that it was just a mouse in front of a lioness. After all, Natasha was just one woman, right?

But even the smallest of Black Widows could be deadly.

"You need Natalie Frost," Romanoff said, with a voice like molten steel. "You need her sane and well and _on your side._ You have lied to her countless times and been nothing but a bane to her existence since the beginning. That _ends._ _ **Now**_ _."_

"You haven't the right to make these demands," one of the Council said scornfully. "And we do not respond well to threats."

"What about facts?" The Spider asked. "Like the fact that, just a few days before you killed her first human best friend since April Blackthorn, Natalie Frost had a meltdown?" She took a step forward. Tiff only now noticed that Fury had exiled himself into the shadows, putting distance between himself and the war that was brewing. "One that, if she had simply gotten _hurt_ enough, could have easily wiped out this entire city?" Her eyes flashed. "And now you have added the death of her friend to the list? Bringing up memories of the death that once nearly _drove_ her to wipe out the city _in the first place?"_

Natasha had continued to step forwards, until she was immediately in front of the Council. Her hands slammed down on the computer, and Tiff flinched.

"Fix this," she ordered. "Before I am forced to."

And she turned around. The Council began protesting- threatening her job, her career, anything they could think of- but to Natasha, they seemed to be nothing more than the buzzing of gnats. And what were gnats to a spider, other than things to be devoured? She walked towards the door, passing Tiff on the way.

"I tried."

Tiff wasn't sure why the words were coming out of her. She just knew that she had to say something, _anything,_ to get the guilt out of her chest. Natasha looked to her with that coldly murderous glare and stopped, letting her speak.

"I tried," Tiff pleaded. "I tried so hard… I didn't want to hurt her. I thought… I didn't know she was…y'know, _like_ that." She bit her lip. Natasha's eyes did not soften. "I was her friend, I truly was!" She tried.

Natasha looked to her, full on, turning her entire body towards the Shadow Crow. And then she bent down, crouching in front of the other agent, looking her in the eyes.

"You were her friend?" She asked, in the voice of Death itself. "Then how did you not know?"

There was no pity in her eyes, even as Tiff's breath hitched. And the Spider stood, breezing out of the room, leaving the Crow behind.

* * *

I wanted to investigate Tiff's death. I wanted to do it so badly that Loki had to lock me in my room to stop me. I wanted to do it so badly that he put guards in front of my door; and made sure that they were both people I liked so that I would feel bad if I hurt one of them. I wanted to do it so badly that I decided to knock the guards out anyway and sneak out through the portal. So badly that Loki already knew that was what I planned and promised me that he would take me down himself if that was what it came to. I wanted it so badly that when I decided to do it anyway, he called Bruce in and asked him to stand guard, too.

I wanted it so badly that I considered it even _after_ that.

"You're being an _idiot!_ " I wailed at Loki, shouting and screaming, as I'd been doing intermittently for hours now. "I don't want to sit around here doing _nothing!_ It's worse than finding something out that might hurt me!"

Loki didn't answer; though he had answered a few times before, so I knew what he _would_ say: " _You don't know that. You don't know how this will affect you. You are not to risk it."_

I fumed and lashed about at the pillow on the bed. The room was filled with all the lavish furnishings; the bed, the large couch, the draping curtains. There were plenty of books in the corner, and there was a pencil and paper on a small, dark blackwood desk- a type of tree that only grew on Jotunheim; and the _only_ tree that grew here at all- that had intricate carvings on its borders. There were two chairs- one at the desk, and one that was perfect for reading, tucked away in the corner by the window. Everything was soft or comfortable or otherwise luxurious, but the fact stood that even the nicest prison was still a prison. You couldn't put silk curtains on a barred window and call the place a castle.

I stamped about for a few more minutes until my temper invariably died down; at least for the next half hour or so. I sighed, slouching into the comfy reading chair and grumping silently about the injustice of it all.

Bruce came in a while later, knocking tentatively on the door and walking inside even when I didn't bother to answer. I leaned the lower part of my face on my hand so that my words had to be muttered out of my squished lips and into my fingers. "Whaddo _you_ want?"

He didn't smile. His voice was gentle. "He's only trying to help you."

"He's being a stubborn bitch."

"And you're marrying him for it."

"Hmph."

We were quiet following that, for a long few minutes. My eyes went to the window, to the curtains that covered it. I'd pulled them shut in order to block out the view of the two-story drop that waited for me if I attempted to escape out in that direction. Not that I wouldn't have jumped out, regardless of the height, but one of the two guards was posted down there. And, well, Bruce was in here. The fact stood that, while I may have been _willing_ to knock Bruce out at this moment, I was certainly not _capable_ of doing so.

After a while of empty silence, Banner spoke. "He's only trying to help. We both are."

"I don't need your help. I just need to figure out what happened."

"You already know what happened, Natalie." His voice was soothing and gentle and kind, just like it always was. Smoothing over ruffled feathers with nothing but his words had become a talent of Bruce's; it was easier to avoid finding reasons to be angry if no one else in the room was angry as well. "Tiff hung herself. She's gone, Natalie. It's a horrendous thing, a tragedy; but there was no ulterior motive to it. She's gone, Natalie. Gone by her own choice and her own hand. There's nothing more you can do for her."

I gave him a long, hard look, studying him intently. And then I slouched back in my seat, glancing to the window again. "Maybe I can't. But that doesn't mean that I can't… can't figure out _why._ " I looked back to him swiftly. "And I'm getting really tired of you two keeping me from _doing_ that."

He smiled a little-that dry, sarcastic, sad little smile that only Bruce had, the one that told you that he knew the solemnity of the situation despite it, that this gesture not truly one of joy- and asked, "And if it were him? If he were the one in your situation, would you let him go? Would you not try to stop him, do everything within your power to do so?"

"Of course I wouldn't," I growled. "I have a right to know-"

"Something that would kill you?" Bruce asked, eyebrow lifting. "You have a right to know everything that is happening in your life, in the lives of your friends?" The other eyebrow went up. "And you've always extended this courtesy to others, have you?"

My ears started to warm up, my cheeks turning pink. "You've been talking to my mother," I said, aghast.

"She mentioned something about a dinner," he responded, not bothering to deny it. "But the fact stands that you've protected enough people in your life, Natalie." He reached forward, placing a hand on my wrist, squeezing it once. "Let us take care of it this time, all right?"

I tried to think of a way out of it. Something that would keep me from being an awful person or a hypocrite, but the truth was that if Loki _was_ in my situation, I _wouldn't_ let him go anywhere. I wouldn't let him out of my sight. I'd cling to his side and keep my eyes glued on him at all times, force our minds open to each other and tear down all walls between us so that he would be unable to do what would hurt him the most. And, in the end, I could only sigh and give in. Even if I _had_ decided to fight it out, what could I do? Take Loki down? That was a lot harder with the shield always protecting _him_ as well as myself, as it did these days. It no longer saw him as the threat, the enemy. It wouldn't touch him. Battle the Hulk? That was unlikely. We would cause _so_ much property damage before one of us managed to take out the other; which would very likely take a number of days to do, anyway. Days that could be better served being here and thinking, _recovering._

Bruce seemed to sense my defeat, because he smiled weakly, sadly, and took my hand, squeezing it carefully. "You should try to relax, Natalie. With everything that's going on…" his eyes softened. "Well, I know you cared about her. And I don't think you've had time to really… _deal_ with that, yet."

"I had a whole day," I grumbled, which was and was not true. I'd mourned with Benny and the others the whole day while waiting for that phone call, the one that did not come- at least, not while I was there- and I'd let myself become numb to the whole thing following that. I probably needed more time. I _should_ have needed more time.

And it scared me a little that I really _didn't_ need any more time than that.

My mourning period was over. My grief at Tiff's death was gone. It would reappear a number of times, I was sure, most likely over the small things and anniversaries of random stuff that we'd done together. But she was my best friend, she _had been_ my best friend, and now that she was gone, I just… accepted it. She was dead. The concept wasn't so hard to wrap my head around; my best friend had died before. The world spun on, then. It would keep doing so now.

What had replaced the grief, what kept Loki from allowing me out, was anger. Something was _wrong_ with this, something just seemed _off._ Sure, Tiff had gone through a breakup and had lot of guilt over her past; but I'd _never_ have thought she was capable of ending herself. And the fact that she'd _hung_ herself…?

Tiff was more efficient than that. She thought more critically. If she was going to do that, she wasn't the type to risk being _caught,_ to risk messing it up. As strange as it sounds, that was one thing that I was absolutely certain of; I'd learned a lot about death, and about how people _thought_ about it, in the past few years. I knew Tiff wasn't like this. Something smelled off and it was driving me _crazy_ not knowing what it was, not knowing the full truth of the matter.

"It doesn't matter," Bruce said. "One day isn't going to restore you to sanity, Natalie." His eyes softened. "These things take time."

I didn't bother to argue with him, or to try and correct him. After a while, he stood, giving me a quiet farewell as he walked out of the door. I turned to the window and stared out of it, distantly.

And then I stood and picked up one of the number of books that Loki had stocked the room with. I forced myself to read it, forced my head inside of it, and did my best to immerse myself inside of its world, inside the heads of its characters.

That was how I spent the rest of the day; drowning it out with books and pictures and even a DVD movie that I played on my laptop, having no other TV on this planet. I practiced drills in the room and took a nap and did anything and everything that I could think to do in order to keep my mind off of Tiff. It wasn't easy, but I managed it. Because I had to manage it.

And, after that day had been successfully tuned out… I tuned out the next one. Then the next. Then the one after that. In fact, Loki kept me locked inside of that room- and intermittently, other areas of the castle, so I didn't go stir crazy- for the rest of the week, thoroughly screwing with my attendance record and pretty much making it impossible for me to catch up. We were nearing the end of the semester, too, which kinda ticked me off. But Loki had someone retrieve my class work, so I did _that_ to take my mind off of things; maybe I could pull through this with a semi-decent grade. Somehow.

Not that I really _cared_ about that; I just didn't want to have to repeat classes again.

Finally, as I marked the eighth tally on the little page that I'd set up for counting the days I was stuck here, then headed out for breakfast and sat down at the table, Loki's hold relinquished. He didn't say anything; but I felt it, in his head; his plans to let me leave today. I looked up at him, across the table, and smiled a little. We didn't say another word about it; we just ate breakfast as we usually did, making small talk about this and that as we did so. Mostly we discussed the treaty; and 'The Renovations' that were still occurring, making it really hard for me to be on this planet, as its temperature had dropped by like a zillion degrees since Loki started putting the Casket to work. But most of the Jotuns seemed happy about it. And all of the mages- particularly the Twins- were very happy; as the Casket had a certain magical property that increased the Jotuns' own strength.

Once finished with breakfast, I changed, kissed Loki goodbye, then headed out the door. It was a weekend, so there was no actual 'school' today, which more than suited my purposes. My fiancée kept a nervous eye on me, but he said not a word as I left the palace, through the portal and into the Tower, barely speaking to any of the Avengers as I left the place. The only two that I would've had anything to say to would be Clint or Natasha; to ask for advice on how, exactly, I should go about investigating this. But neither was around today, so I just decided to go on instinct.

The first thing I did was check my phone. On it was a number of texts and voicemails, most from Benny. Most of them were concerned about where I was and what I was doing and could I meet so-and-so here at such-and-such time. None of them gave me any more information than what I already had, so I deleted them all and stuffed the phone in my pocket, heading out to Tiff's house.

It had been a week, so I knew that the whole 'crime scene' aspect of the house would be null and void by now. But now the house might be up for sale; so I had to get in and get out, quick, in case someone noticed me. I didn't know what I'd find that the police didn't, but the cops weren't exactly in the same loop that I was; a loop concerning magic and superheroes.

I headed to the house. There wasn't a 'For Sale' sign up yet; so I figured that there was still a boatload of paperwork being done. I wasn't all that sure how long these things would take.

Still, best to move quickly.

Natasha had taught me how to pick a lock years ago. It was a surprisingly handy trick, I'll admit, and while it didn't tend to work on all of those magical locks and stuff in Asgard or Jotunheim, you'd be surprised how many Earthly security systems that I could dismantle with little more than a paperclip or a hairpin.

Today, however, I went for something a little more hardcore; pulling my lock picking kit out from my purse, I got to work swiftly, glancing around to be certain that no one was watching. It didn't seem like it, but there could've been any number of people inside of those windows, so I moved very quickly.

It took a few minutes, but finally, I had the door opened. I pushed it open and ducked inside, closing it softly behind me. I closed my eyes and, leaning back on the door, took a deep breath to steady myself.

 _Take in your surroundings,_ I heard Clint's voice in my head. I was grateful that he was the only one right now. _Survey everything_ _ **before**_ _you enter a room. I don't care_ _ **how**_ _safe you think it is._

I usually ignored this advice in the places that I called 'home'- my apartment, the Tower, the Palace- but when I was in an area I didn't know so well, I liked to be a little more careful. Besides, the fact that my best friend had died in here gave the whole place a very creepy vibe that made me a little more on the cautious side.

I opened my eyes again, scanning the place. The door immediately opened up, with a living room to my right and, a little distance ahead, a kitchen. I'd been in Tiff's house before, though, so I didn't bother trying to figure out the layout in my head again. I just looked for the things that seemed out of place. There were surprisingly few of these.

All of the furniture was the same. None of it had been touched yet, nothing had been moved. It was eerie, to say the least; like disturbing a grave. But I'd had my experiences with graves, so I walked inside casually, but silently, so as to blend in with the ghosts.

I had my share of experiences with _that,_ too.

I walked forwards a little more. The air, though I'd expected it to be stale, was surprisingly cool. It took me a little while to realize that the air conditioner was on, and a little longer to try and ponder _why_ that would be. Tiff lived alone. There was no one else in the house; unless someone had come to pick up her stuff. But, as I stopped to listen, I heard… nothing. Nothing that _loud,_ anyway, and moving things around after a death would definitely have been loud. Or at least, loud _enough._ I sniffed the air; they must've gotten the body out quick. There was no stench of death in the air, nothing to indicate any kind of disaster had happened here. The whole place was just so… serene.

I kept moving, silently, swiftly. The next stop was the kitchen; it was away from my final destination- her bedroom, which Benny said was where she'd… you know- but for some reason, I found myself walking there, anyway. Scoping the whole house out.

I headed to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, expecting to have the smell of rotting food wash over me. At least to have one or two things in there that was gross and rotten and old.

But no. Everything in there was pristine and neat and fresh. All of the food was fine. The kitchen was even clean. It was surreal.

I pulled open one of the drawers, searching for something… _wrong._ Something, _anything._ What _was_ it that had me so paranoid?

Well, maybe the food was _too_ perfect. I looked it over, trying to see if everything was still in its boxes and jars and containers and plastic wrap, all unopened. It wasn't. There were things that had been eaten here and there: that butter was open, with a few shavings off of its top, and there were semi-fresh leftovers of something from a can. That bag of spinach leaves was still open; and still fresh, somehow. It looked like a normal freaking fridge. You would never know that the girl who owned it was dead.

I was about to close it when something caught my eye; a packet of Swiss cheese that was, like everything else, normal and opened and partially eaten. But that Swiss had a memory running through my head, a memory that made me stagger back a step.

" _I think I could tell people to 'be one with the cheese' and they'd take it as perfectly sage advice'."_

I stuffed my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing, to keep from disturbing the ghosts. The words of another best friend. The words of someone who'd made me laugh and made me cry and who had been there through thick and thin, had been there through the beginning of all that shit that I went through and laughed with me at the end of it. Even at _her_ end.

What would Tiff say, I wondered, if I could talk to her now? Would she laugh? Would she tell me what had happened to her?

 _Why don't I find out?_

That was when it hit me. The most obvious freaking solution in the world. The thing I should have done from the beginning. _Elliroth._

The Chamber of Elliroth was _designed_ for this kind of crap; to discover killers and speak to those who'd been lost. Sure, it was pretty worthless, as most of them didn't remember their own death, and those that did…well, they didn't _want_ to. But if this really _was_ a suicide, then Tiff would have been thinking it over for _long_ before it actually happened.

My heartbeat quickened. I started to get excited. _I could say goodbye._ _ **She**_ _could say goodbye._

I headed to the door, moving quickly, closing the fridge behind me and moving on light feet. But when I made it to the front door, when I had my hand on the doorknob, another thought hit me: _and how in the hell do you think you're going to convince Loki to_ _ **do**_ _this?_

He'd done it before. Done it for _me_ before. It was possible. I could do this. I could convince him.

 _And if you can't?_

I swallowed my excitement and forced myself to release the doorknob. Better safe than sorry. I'd get what information I could while I was here. Then I'd head back. Then I'd ask Loki about the Chamber. Then I'd beg if I had to, but I'd get him to do it.

Somehow.

I took another deep breath. Truth be told, this place was creep-tastic; and it wasn't because of what had happened. It was because it looked like it hadn't happened _at all._ The whole place seemed to have been sheltered from the horrors that went on inside of it. Sure, I hadn't expected a gruesome, gory crime scene, but I hadn't expected this… _normalcy_ , either.

I turned around, away from the door, and forced myself on course once more, ignoring all side distractions. I headed straight for Tiff's room, still moving silently, and trying to collect as much information as I could as I went. Even picking up on the pointless things, the smallest details; like in detective shows, how they always said that even the tiniest things could be important. Life with spies had taught me how true _that_ was.

"Who are you?"

The words were a shout, and I jumped. I'd passed by a door on my way to Tiff's bedroom, and now as I turned, I saw someone standing in its frame. I stared at her for a long moment, completely surprised. She'd taken me off guard. Do you know how _hard_ it is to take _me_ off guard?

I was impressed. And, of course, immediately threatened. My radar went off something fierce as I whirled on her, taking her in.

She was in her late thirties, early forties, with impressions of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, a few on her forehead. She shared Tiff's exact shade of red-brown hair, with the same wild curls, and the similarities didn't stop there. She had the same general face shape, and the lips were identical; but her eyes were a shining pale blue, vivid and vibrant and severe. The image of a tigress popped up in my head; the kind of animal that could stalk you, hunt you down, tear you apart its claws, and eat you alive.

Nice gal, I was sure.

She stood in the doorway, firm in her convictions but quivering just a little in fear. Her nose was very red and her eyes were puffy and swollen, like she'd just been crying. Her red-painted fingernails clicked quietly against the doorjamb as her trembling hand clasped it for support.

"Who are _you?_ " I returned, looking her up and down. No point in trying to back away quickly and sneak out of here. There was a stranger in Tiff's house, and I wanted to know who it was.

She stiffened. "I suggest you answer me," She said, in what was meant to be a dangerous voice but wavered, just a little bit, out of fright. Was she _scared_ of me? Was she just another trespasser? She had to have been. She _had to._ What else _could_ she be?

"Or I will call the police," She tacked on the threat to the end of her sentence like it meant something. I lifted an eyebrow.

"You do that," I told her, secretly hoping that she wouldn't. "I'm sure they'll want to know what you're doing trespassing on a crime scene."

"Crime scene?" Her eyebrows furrowed. Then, after a moment, she seemed to recognize what I was saying; her bloodshot eyes filled again. "You mean… Tiffiana?"

"Yes," I answered icily. "I mean Tiffiana."

An abrupt change seemed to come over the woman. The fierce (if somewhat wary) tigress became a small, frightened cub. She took a few steps forwards, clasping my hands. "Then… you were one of her friends?"

This took me a little aback. My brain was _trying_ to put the pieces together, but it utterly refused. I knew what this woman was, I knew what she was _acting_ like… but it wasn't true. It _couldn't_ be true, because Tiff herself had _told_ me that it _wasn't_ …

But she was so much of a _mom_ that it _hurt._

"Yeah…" I said, slowly and guardedly. "I was a friend. She was my best friend." Out of the humans, anyway.

Her lip quivered. She burst out into tears, wailing and sobbing, all but falling on me. I tried to keep from cringing away, but she was still a stranger to me, and I didn't trust having anyone I didn't know _that close._ Not anymore.

"Do you know why?" the woman moaned. "Do you know why she did it? Do you know… Do you know what…?" She sniffled again. "She didn't… she didn't leave a note, she didn't say goodbye… I don't know what I did wrong…!" She collapsed on her knees, crying harder. It was then that I caught it. A scent, coming from the room that she'd exited- a room that I could clearly tell, now that the door was open and I could see inside, was a _bed_ room. So that scent had no place there, no reason. My insides became hard, my stomach no longer moving as my heart started pumping glass. It was an onion smell.

It's the oldest trick in the book, to use onions to make yourself cry. Anyone trained well enough can cry on command, anyway, but the onions don't hurt. I could imagine it now; this woman- who was so clearly _not_ Tiff's mother, however she acted to the contrary- had seen me coming. She'd panicked, hid, grabbed an onion and started fixing herself up to look like she was distraught- the onion could account for the eyes, but she'd probably run a tissue under her nose a thousand times or rubbed it hard or got it cold or something- and waited to see if I'd come down the hall. When I had, she'd stepped out, revealing herself.

But that left a few things open-ended:

1\. Her hair was obviously dyed. She had no grey roots or silver/white anywhere. So if she was just here for a quick look, then how had she already come prepared with Tiff's exact hair color and style? Did she know this sort of thing would happen? Did she _suspect_ it?

2\. Why reveal herself at all? If she was just snooping, she might've been able to just sneak out when I passed the hallway. She could have at least made an attempt.

And 3. Why in the hell was she here in the first place?

I kept the questions ready. They'd come in handy later. I took the woman's hand, stroking it softly as I crouched down in front of her. Trying to put tears in my own eyes- and wishing I had that onion, since I was completely unable to do so- I said, in a weak and cracking voice, "I don't know. I don't know why she did it. I don't know why… why she didn't say goodbye."

She looked up at me with shiny, hopeful eyes, as though I was some shining light in the darkness of the pain she was going through. I almost broke her neck then and there. How dare she come into my friend's home, put on the guise of her long-dead mother, and pretend like I was another person who shared her pain? She didn't know anything _about_ this pain, not this _directly._ Did she even _know_ Tiff? Did she know anything _about_ her?

Another thought had my blood running cold: maybe she did. Maybe she knew _everything_ about her, even everything about what she'd done as a revolutionary.

Maybe she was one of Loki's old soldiers.

The pinch of pain behind my ribs, very prevalent in days of late, swelled into something worse, more… stabbing. I shoved it down hard and didn't let it surface again, burying it beneath anger. Whoever this woman was, she was going to pay for this. I would make certain of it.

I stood, carefully. "Do you mind…" I made my lower lip tremble. "Do you mind if I look in her room?" I asked. "I just…" I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging them close to my body. "I just needed to see it."

She nodded, quickly, fiercely. "I understand."

"I'm sorry for breaking in," I added, in a quiet voice. "I didn't think… I just really needed to…" I let my words die and looked down, as though I found the subject awkward. Actually, I was looking for Tiff's gun; the one that was under the little lamp table in this hall. I couldn't see it. This woman could have been armed. Or the police could've taken it away; that was always possible.

"I understand," she said again, a little softer now. Once she stood up again, she placed a gentle, guiding hand on my back, leading me into Tiff's bedroom.

This was the one place that Tiff's death seemed to have touched. The noose wasn't hanging from the ceiling anymore, but I could see where it _would_ have been, could see the headboard above the chair that had been knocked over in the middle of the room.

"I couldn't come back in here," Tiff's not-mother said quietly. "I couldn't… I couldn't straighten up. I… I _can't_."

Plausible enough. But still a lie.

I stepped inside, looking around. Tiff's room looked like Tiff's room. A little bit messy and chaotic, with papers strewn all over her desk and a few postcards from different states pinned above the wall on her bed, a poster of some band I didn't know on her ceiling. But what really wrenched at my gut and twisted my heart was the photo on the floor next to the chair.

The one of her and Ben in a park. The one where he was making a funny face at the camera, completely unaware that she was behind him with an ice cream cone, ready to squash it into his hair.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets so that the intruder to this scene could not see them clenching into fists.

"I'll… I'll leave you alone," She said in a whisper, moving out of the room.

"No," I said, quietly. "No, it's okay." I jammed my fist into one eye, wiping it with the back of my hand. "I'll… I'll go."

I walked towards her. She watched me as I came towards her, then paused.

I smiled a little, sadly. "Huh," I said, weakly. I reached out for a knick-knack that rested on her desk. It was a glass paperweight, with a few small fairies inside, all of them silver, shining in the crystal. Tiff had given me an excuse for having something so girly in the house: that she'd had it when she was a kid, and it was one of the only things she'd managed to salvage from her old house after it burnt down. She'd been so in awe of that; that something so fragile, made of glass, could survive when all else crumbled. I rolled it in my hand, back and forth, methodically. "I gave this to her," I said, in a quiet, weak, fragile voice. "I thought she hated it," I added, with a tiny giggle. The woman smiled back at me, sadly, eyes still bloodshot.

"You should keep it," she prodded quietly.

"I couldn't."

"You should." The woman stepped forwards, to press it closer in my hands. I waited until she was within reach…

And then I brought the thing cracking down on her forehead.

She stumbled for a moment, stunned, and I didn't give her a chance to recover. I stepped up, and though she raised her hands to defend herself, I slammed the paperweight on her head again. It was one of those solid-glass things that wouldn't completely shatter if it hit something; just crack or chip. And it didn't even do either of those.

That thing really _was_ tough.

The woman who wasn't Tiff's mother fell to the ground in the room where Tiff died. I placed the paperweight back on the table and started searching Tiff's room. I was unsurprised to uncover a length of rope after a few minutes' search; Tiff always had more of the stuff, more of anything that could be used as a weapon or that was otherwise unconventional in a normal home, even now. Even after this.

I searched the woman for weapons and found one; a small silver blade that I set aside before tying her hands and feet, then dragged her out to the living room and dumped her in the middle, there. For a little extra security, I tied her to a coffee table. The heavy one. She'd get away if she was determined enough, but she'd make a great deal of noise before then; noise that I would be listening for.

I finished a search of the house. Only the one gun of Tiff's was missing; the other two were still in their hiding places. So either the police had taken that one, or…

Well, or I had to be on my guard.

I brought the woman's knife with me and toyed with it, sitting on the couch until she regained consciousness a few minutes later. Loki had noticed the adrenaline spike, and as the woman in front of me stirred, he cautioned, _Frost…_

 _I have it under control,_ I promised. _I won't hurt her._

He took me at my word and left it at that. So now, it was just me and her.

"Wh… What?" She said, as she stirred. "What's going…" She looked up at me and made a noise like ' _eep!'_ "What are you doing? Why am I…" She looked around frantically, straining against the ropes.

"Don't bother," I said, flicking the knife up in the air, catching it when it fell. "You've been made."

"What?" She asked again, looking frightened.

"You've been made. Your cover's blown. It's _over._ " I leaned back again. "My only question now is: who sent you? An organization? A person? Are you one of Loki's old soldiers, here to fight against the revolutionary that took down your platoon or some shit?"

"I don't know what you're saying!" She wailed, shaking her head back and forth so that her curls bounced, whipping across her face.

"I'm saying that you're _good,_ bitch, but you're not _good enough._ " I leaned forwards, holding the knife up to her throat. "Found the onion in your room. Good tool for making yourself cry, right? I mean, it's an old-ass trick. The old-assiest. But if it ain't broke, right?" I tilted my head to the side. "And the mother of Tiffiana Lively is _dead._ She told me herself, she _told_ me what happened. So my question is…" I made my eyes burn. It wasn't difficult; everything was burning. "Who the hell are _you?_ "

She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes for a long time. And then she seemed to sense it. To see that I wasn't giving in. She sighed, quietly, but she just sat back. She didn't say anything. That was when it was clear to me, the unspoken words on her face that told me that she _knew_ her cover was blown. But she wasn't saying a word. And there was nothing I could do to persuade her.

It made me really wish that I hadn't just promised Loki that I wouldn't hurt her.

But I kept my word. I didn't hurt her. Instead, I went to the fridge, made myself a sandwich, and sat down in front of her. I turned on the TV. I got comfortable. And I let hours pass, watching the television and watching her get cramped while tied up on the floor next to me.

"So, any fake husband?" I asked, after about two episodes of a stupid comedy show _._ "Someone that I should be worried about coming home and rescuing you?"

She looked at the TV. "No," she answered bluntly.

"Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?"

"I would."

"Fair enough."

We watched a few more TV shows. I let the hours pass like that. I even pulled a notebook out of one of the rooms and started doodling. I was using my dead friend's school supplies, and eating my dead friend's food, but hey, I'd been wearing my other dead friend's sweater for years. The only difference here was that I had no permission from the friend or from one of her relatives.

So basically, the only difference was sentiment.

I kicked back. I showed off my drawing to Tiff's not-mother and laughed at the face she made. I practiced with her knife, which I had already looked over for any identifying marks. It had none. And, when the sun started to set, I busied myself with grabbing a washcloth and tying it around her mouth. It was large enough that I felt secure with it. Then I added a few more ropes to the ones on her hands, fastening her to a number of other places that she couldn't escape from as easily as she might have done from the table.

"Well, g'night!" I said, waving over my shoulder and popping out the door.

Then I crossed the street, found a hiding place, and waited.

I waited for a long time, in the dark. I made sure I was near a street light, true, but it still made me anxious. Still made me frightened, as the sun went down and the world slipped into blackness. Sitting crouched in the same position for hours at a time didn't help a lot, either.

I called Benny. I asked who had found the body, keeping my voice down under the guise of 'I'm staying at a friend's house and don't want to wake them'. He said it was her mother. I told him thanks and hung up. It confirmed a suspicion I'd had for a while. Whoever this was, they'd pulled some serious strings; likely having faked an ID, knowing a lot about Tiff and her past. I was forming a picture in my head: the one missing gun. Tiff said that she had three guns, registered to herself and her parents. The officers could've taken hers, since she was dead. And they'd have left the others with her 'parents'.

Which meant that there _was_ a fake husband. And he was going to show up sooner or later.

I waited where I was in silence for a long time, hiding in the shadows that had long ago been my captors. But now there was no one to bring them to life. Now there was only me and the darkness.

It was another hour and a half before the car pulled into the driveway. I stiffened, waiting as a tall man emerged, slamming the door of his car shut and heading inside the house. I played out the scene in my head: he goes inside, sees his 'wife' tied up. Immediately goes to untie her. Asks who the culprit is. Discusses strategy.

Or maybe, she plays it smart and tells him that the person who did this could still be around.

Either way, it was time to reveal myself again. Flaring my shield, I started walking across the street, moving with silent steps to the door of the house and following the man inside.

It wasn't difficult. The door shut silently behind me, and I kept crouched behind some furniture while I listened to the man's reaction upon seeing Tiff's false mother.

At first, all I could hear were murmurs. I leaned in closer, held my breath, and listened as closely as I could.

"…Definitely her," The woman's voice was saying.

"Who?" The man asked, with a convincingly puzzled tone; he appeared to be ready to go on, but before he could, she cut him off.

"You _know_ who. And it doesn't matter if you keep in character or not; she knows. Even if she's still here-"

"Right, right, got it," the man sighed, brushing the words off. He seemed to switch accents suddenly, though what he spoke with now, I couldn't quite identify. He paused, then, "You… _don't_ think she's still here, do you?"

There was silence for a moment. They'd be searching now. My hiding place behind the couch would be easily compromised, but I didn't move. In fact, I waited. I _hoped_ they'd find me.

And, of course, find me they did.

It was the man, the false husband and false father. As his face peered over one end of the couch, I grinned, said, 'Peek-a-boo' and punched him in the nose.

He retreated back just in time to avoid the worst of it; I bounced onto my feet and threw a blow. He dodged, swiftly, certainly, his fighting work too instinctual and natural for him to be anything _but_ a professional. I kept throwing blows, looking for patterns in his movements, trying to find something I recognized…

The woman seemed to figure out what I was doing. She shouted, "No, Leo, don't!"

But her partner was unable to hear in the barrage that I was throwing at him. He blocked and struck back rather well, impressing me a little, until I had him cornered against the wall…

I don't know why I did it. Why I tried to provoke this _particular_ reaction. Why I knew, even before I actually _knew,_ who he was. But I knew it was confirmed, from the second that I had him cornered against the wall, and he placed his foot so confidently against said wall, propelling himself forward while at the same time ducking down, aiming for my stomach…

I knew the counterattack, of course. But I was so startled, so horrendously _frightened,_ by what this meant that I couldn't find it in myself to fight back. As he barreled into me, throwing me back to the ground, all but landing on top of me, I let myself crash to the floor. I let all the air leave my body- there wasn't a lot left, anyway- and I stared up at the ceiling. As he leapt back to his feet, I didn't move.

 _It's definitely her,_ the woman had said.

Who else knew me? Murmur, of course, but this didn't _fit_ his M.O. So why wouldn't it be them? How did I not see this before?

The man seemed unnerved by my sudden immobility, the lack of incentive to fight, and he stood, quite helplessly, beside me, glancing to his partner in that _what-now_ way. Slowly, carefully, I started to pull myself to my feet. The man tensed again, getting ready for another round, but I was done fighting. I was done with these small battles. I was done with these small _people._

I don't know what I looked like, as I stood again, as I lurched to my feet, pulled along by puppet strings. I only know that, whatever the look on my face was, it so obviously frightened the two agents in the room. Pulling the woman's knife from my belt, I flung it to the ground, where it buried itself an inch into the carpet.

Who else would be capable of this? Who else would do such things?

Who had killed my best friend once before under the guise of 'suicide'…?

Who else, but S.H.I.E.L.D. taught those exact moves, the ones that Natasha and Clint had shown me so long ago?

Who else but S.H.I.E.L.D. hated me this much?

I looked up to the two agents. They had fallen into defensive positions, one beside the other, ready to fight and frightened that they might have to. I could see my skin glowing out of the corners of my eyes, but I lost the knowledge of how to make it stop, how to quell the anger enough to do so. I could only make it burn brighter, could only make it gleam so much more brilliantly, as I took a step to the agents.

"So," I breathed. "S.H.I.E.L.D."

They disguised their shock well, their fear well. They did not look to each other. In fact, they gave convincing performances of confusion. But it was these performances that made me all the more certain of my assessment. My force field flared into life around me, rippling and contorting, wrapping itself around my body.

"All right then," I told them. "Just tell me one thing."

At this, at last, they exchanged looks. Their fear was palpable. I could sense it. As She had taught me to sense it. As She had taught me to love it.

 _Natalie,_ Loki ordered in my head, his voice stern and severe. It was a harsh command. _Stand down. You can not-_

I don't know whose voice answered him. It felt like mine, but it might as well have been Fraye's. But I knew that it was soaked in blood of all colors; and it was a far stricter, more powerful order than any that he could ever give. Flat and dead and yet ringing with unimaginable strength.

 _ **Get the hell out of my head.**_

Loki felt the blow of these words all the way in Jotunheim; he was forced back a step, stumbling a little as the shockwave of the rage-induced order trembled through him. He gasped as I threw up walls, cut the two of us off completely, separated us with such a fierce, swift intensity that pain immediately rang through our heads. We were as separate as I could make us alone, as broken apart as I could manage, and nothing, at the moment, could break through.

As the last wall went up, however, some small part of me found itself speaking again. It was a tiny voice. A gentle whisper, scared and sad and frightened.

 _Please. I don't want you to see me like this._

As I closed my head to Loki, as I blocked out his furious shouting, as the pain of that action made my blood feel bitter and dry, I glared at the two agents, who were ignorant to my mental plight. Reaching forwards, I swayed a little, almost drunkenly. I wasn't sure why. With unstably fluid movements, I reached for the knife that I had just jammed into the floor, wrenching it out of the ground.

"Well?" I said, looking up to the agents, toying with the blade. The man-Leo- swallowed. The woman was searching for exits. But I had left none.

"Where is Fury?"

* * *

 **A/N:** **Again, guys, it'd really help a lot if you reviewed. I'm having a bit of a hard time writing this right now and I want to make sure there's still people wanting me to write it. :/**


	9. Lying, Spying, and Family Dining

I'd forgotten the sheer power, the rush I felt, whenever I heard an explosion. The way it shattered your eardrums and made your balance go all tipsy as it vibrated in the floor beneath your feet, ripping holes in the walls around you as the air itself trembled. I'd forgotten the feeling of that, the terrible tremors that it sent through your body as your adrenaline surged. I'd forgotten what it felt like, to love the destruction.

I'd forgotten what it felt like to not care.

I'd lost count of the number of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that I'd knocked out by this point; or possibly worse. I wasn't sure. There was blood on my shield, but none on my actual skin, blood smeared across the force field as I marched directly into Fury's office, accompanied by the clatter of gunfire as the shells fractured harmlessly off of my second skin, the resonating echoes of the walls crumbling around me as I charged, from room to room, without thought of doors.

Fury was waiting for me. I'd kinda thought he would be. His hand was on the gun in his belt, ready to draw it at a second's notice; though he seemed to recognize how pointless it would be to fire it on me. He looked at the agents still trying to gun me down and barked, "Hold your fire- _HOLD YOUR FIRE!"_

It took a moment for his voice to penetrate the cacophony, my symphony of chaos. But at last, it did, leaving us in a ringing, shattered silence.

"Hello, Natalie." Fury said evenly, his solemn gaze resting on me.

"Fury," I answered, with a curt nod.

The silence was deafening. The agents were all staring at me. Watching my every move. Fear was in every eye; even Fury's, which was still staring at me, defiant and resolute.

He hadn't been on the Helicarrier, as I'd feared. He'd been in an office- a building in New York- and it had been the simplest of things to get there. Taking the subway when you _already_ wanted to rip off people's heads was an experience, let me tell you. Glowing intermittently and trying to explain it away was quite another one.

Not that I had cared much what those norms thought of me, anyway.

Fury's gaze held mine steadily. I decided to get to the point. One doesn't smash walls to be _subtle._ "Where is Tiff?"

He didn't answer. Something within me snapped. Well, something else. A lot of things had been snapping lately.

"Is she even alive?" I snarled.

For three seconds- some of the longest three seconds in my life- he didn't answer. When he did, his voice was firm. "That's classified, Fro-"

He didn't get to finish saying my name before my shield expanded with such force and ferocity that it shoved the other agents in the room aside. Some were lucky enough to be forced through the gaping hole that I had blasted through the wall. Others were not so lucky. They, like Fury, were forced up against the wall itself, pressed against it so tightly that I heard the air leave their bodies. Most dropped their weapons, but these, too, remained pressed against the wall, where they were no use to anyone.

" _Classified?"_ I shrieked. _"_ _ **Classified?**_ Do you know the _hell_ I've been through Fury? Do you even know what you've _done?_ Do you even know what I've been made into, what I can _do_ to you?" I pulled back the field a foot or two just so that I could slam it into him again. I heard something crack. I didn't think it was Fury, but one of the other agents. Something in me made me let up on them, made me pull the field closer to myself, made me keep my attention on only Fury. The agents gathered together quickly, retreating, two of them dragging a third, breathless one away as he held his side, clearly agonized.

"Exactly what _good_ is your _existence,_ Fury?" I demanded. "How _classified_ do you think what I'll _do_ to you will _be?!"_

"NATALIE!"

The voice stopped me in my tracks as I lurched ever closer to Fury. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He even seemed to be losing consciousness a little bit. For a second, I didn't even move. I didn't even breathe. I just closed my eyes and knew.

I knew.

I knew she was alive now.

I knew the truth.

I knew what she had done.

I knew it all.

I turned, at last, and released the Director. Tiffiana Lively, my human former best friend, stood behind me, back from the dead. Back from the grave.

 _Didn't I tell you, Natalie?_ Fraye cooed in my ear. I could feel her shadow-laced breath tickling my skin. _Didn't I tell April's mother, that I could bring the dead back to life?_

 _But_ _ **you**_ _aren't here,_ I snarled back at her. A decidedly ugly sneer curled on my face as I did so, making Tiff swallow. She was ignored as Fraye's pealing little laugh answered me.

 _No,_ she agreed, all but purring. _But you_ _ **are**_ _me now, aren't you?_

A shiver ran through me as she added, _Congratulations, my first success. My only._

I pushed the voice down, forced it away, as I advanced on Tiff. She looked at me nervously, frightened, but held her ground, held fast as she looked me in the eye and said, "That's enough, Natalie."

I halted. I stopped moving forwards. I stopped moving at all. I just looked at her.

I should've been happy. I should've been… _overjoyed._ My friend was back. She was back from the dead. She was alive, she'd never been dead in the first place, she was alive and she was here in front of me and we could go shopping and talk about our past and we could do what we wanted together.

But all I could think was that this, at last, was the truth.

That we may have shopped together, may have talked and laughed together, we may have done homework and complained about the teachers together. We may have been alive together.

But we were not, and had never been, _friends._

Because this woman standing in front of me was nothing but one more lie, told to me by the council of S.H.I.E.L.D. She was as blank and empty and faceless as any of those screens. And, alive though she may now be, she was still dead to me.

"That's enough?" I repeated. The words were a soft, distant whisper. I heard them from a distance, as though I was a million miles away. "That's really enough?" I asked, shaking my head back and forth. And I was laughing. I was laughing and it wasn't funny at all.

"That's really enough?!" I raged suddenly, lunging for her, taking her by the shoulders and holding her against the wall, slamming her into it with a jolt painful enough to make her cry out. I knew now, what she was. It was so blindingly clear. Because if she was not dead, then her death was faked. And if her death was faked, and she was _here,_ with S.H.I.E.L.D. and protecting Fury, then what else would she be, but an agent?

"When was it _enough,_ Tiff?" I demanded, slamming her shoulders again, shaking her. I could imagine her teeth rattling in her head. "When precisely did _you_ decide that it was _enough?!_ When you first approached me? When you became my friend? When you looked me in the eyes and _lied_ to my _face?_ When you _broke Benny's heart?!"_ I shook her again, closing my eyes shut tight as I yelled, screamed so loudly that my voice cracked. " _When did you get to decide that it was_ _ **enough?**_ **"**

She didn't respond. Her eyes were shining a little bit too much, looked a little too glassy, as she looked down at me from where I held her pinned to the wall by her shoulders. A dozen conflicting emotions roiled in me, wild windstorms that flew in on violent gusts. I think I wanted to cry. I think I had to much hate to.

I looked down. I couldn't even look at her face anymore. I could no longer face the ghosts. Trembling as I kept holding her partly aloft, I found my mouth asking questions of its own accord, found myself unable to control my words. "Just tell me, Tiff," I pleaded. "Just tell me this."

I looked up to her again. I looked into her eyes, framed by that wild, red-brown hair that had always looked natural, but probably just came out of a bottle. I looked at those freckles that could have been painted on and that tan from some place I never knew she'd been. "Was it… was any word of it… true? Was _anything_ that you said… not a _lie?"_

She looked back at me for a long time. I think she was shaking, too. Was that emotion I saw in her eyes? Was it guilt or regret? Or was it just fear, now that she saw me as I was? Now that she saw the monster she had unleashed?

After a long moment of consideration, her eyes tightened. She steeled herself, bracing herself in my grip, and swallowed. Her voice was thin and reedy as she asked, "Was anything that _you_ said?"

And Fraye giggled in my ear.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stammer out the indignant response, couldn't rage at her in fury. I couldn't pull my hand back and slam it into her, as I'd wanted to. I could only think. I could only remember. Remember every word that I had ever said to her, and every little thing that I was forced to lie to her about. All those things I told her- even the most painful of all, even those things about my scars and my torturer- they had all been permeated with deception. Each and every one of them was laced with untruths. Every time I talked about my job, or my life during the wars, my life during Loki's reign, I lied to her. Every time I spoke about my fiancée, every time I avoided saying his name or said that he got grief for it, I lied to her.

But there were so many truths in those lies, couldn't she _see_ that?

 _Can't you?_

My fingers slipped and trembled, releasing Tiff without getting my permission to do so. She landed on the ground on light, silent feet. She was always so silent. She'd always been able to sneak up on everyone. Everyone but me.

"Natalie."

The voice made me turn again, turn once more to the hole I'd made in the wall. Seven, very skittish-looking Avengers looked back at me. _All_ seven of them: Bruce, Steve, Clint, Natasha, Tony, even Thor… And Loki, standing in front of them all, his face frightened and his eyes guilt-ridden and his fingers trembling from the suppressed pain of his head. All of them looked ready to fight. I wondered only for a second who the new threat was, what had been so important that they had dragged even Thor out of his kingdom, what new monster we would all have to fight…

And then I remembered that it was me.

"It's time to go home now, Natalie," Loki prodded, very quietly. He stepped forwards, his hands reaching out to me. I looked at him blankly, emptily. He must've gotten the others the instant he knew what I'd become. They were all here to fight me. They were all _ready_ to fight me. And if I fought back, if I battled them, if I tried to kill them or anyone else, they would _kill_ me.

That was what I would have _expected_ from them. What I would have _wanted._

I looked around, emotionlessly, at the crumbling chaos that I had wreaked. And then I looked to Tiff. She looked back at me, still half in fear.

I took a step back, away from the Agent and her Director, towards my fellow Avengers. My voice became meek, soft, and mild. "Okay."

Loki and the other Avengers exchanged looks. And then Loki took a few careful steps forwards. He passed through my force field with ease; it couldn't hurt him, not any longer. But he was the only one who could do so. Cautiously, he stepped up to me. Realizing that I was shaking, he swiftly pulled his cloak off, draping it around my shoulders.

"Come along, Frost," he said, gently, as the other Avengers went to stand guard over Fury and Tiff.

"Okay," I repeated dully. My eyes didn't leave my former friend. As I left the room, I told her, in a voice like I would use if we were still friends, a voice I would use in the cafeteria at the college, or calling across the campus: "I'll see you tomorrow at the park, okay?"

Immediately, the other Avengers stiffened. Even Loki froze. I tucked my head against his side and added, "Not one word of it."

No one else seemed to understand. No one else seemed to get it. Not even Fury, who had heard Tiff's question only moments before. But Tiff understood, that much was obvious. Tiff saw it in my eyes. I was answering her.

Not one word of what I'd said to her had been true.

Our entire friendship, on both sides, was a lie.

I chuckled. It wasn't the girlish giggle that I expected, but rather, dark and wry and all too knowledgeable. I was all _too_ aware of what was going on around me now. "Funny how it works out, innit?" I inquired. "The best of friends are always the liars."

And then I walked out with Loki beside me, leaving Tiff silent in my wake.

* * *

The Avengers kept watch on me for the rest of the day. No one moved from the room as I sat in the middle of the floor, unraveling a ball of yarn and, when finished, rolling it back up again, over and over. Clint had gone to yell at some S.H.I.E.L.D. flunkies and had come back with his face a blotchy purple color. He settled down after a while, but it was obvious that he was still pissed. _All_ of the Avengers were. Thor, too, 'had words' with the Council. Apparently, from the snippets of information I could gather when the Avengers whispered amongst themselves- keeping both myself and Loki completely out of the loop as much as possible- the Council had considered taking my attack on this particular branch of S.H.I.E.L.D. as an act of war, considered blowing it up into an interplanetary incident. But that was _before_ they were reminded by Clint that I had become the way I was- unstable, border lining on insane- in the _defense_ of this planet. They considered doing it anyway, until Thor informed them in grave tones that Asgard would stand beside Jotunheim in this issue.

I kept rolling and unraveling my yarn.

It was interesting, this yarn. It was tri-colored, with a dark blue, a light blue, and a teal-green, the colors blending into one another, changing as I unraveled it, changing as I re-wound it. I watched my fingers work in fascination.

The anxiety in the room was a living creature. I could feel it in the air I breathed and hear it in every breath of my compatriots. I could sense it, moving and shifting through the room, prowling between each of us. Anxiety about one thing. About what I would do next; and what they would be forced to do following it.

They talked in murmurs, ducking out of the room on occasion to discuss what was to be done about the super-powered nutcase in the room. But I wasn't a nutcase. I had an episode. I wasn't crazy anymore; I was as sane as everyone else in this room.

Then again, two of the people in this room were in medieval armor, one in a cyborg suit, and another in brilliant red, white, and blue. Odds were, this wasn't a good group to base my sanity on.

Despite how livid Clint had been, Natasha still remained perfectly calm as she watched me. I didn't even have to ask, but I did anyway, after a few hours, just because.

"So did you know?" I inquired of the spy, pulling apart my ball of yarn once again.

The entire room held its collective breath. Everyone froze. Everyone but Natasha.

"Yes," She answered.

"Did you try to stop it?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

And that was that.

Loki, walking around Earth in his Asgardian form, hadn't said a word to me since we'd gotten back to the Tower. He'd spoken to the other Avengers, always in tight, curt words, and our minds were now more open to each other, but we had said nothing. But I knew what he felt. He was white with rage, and every time he looked at me, his lips quivered, as though he was forced to seal them against words that were trying to beat them open, force their way out of him.

But he never shouted. He never even spoke. Not to me. Not once.

At last, it was decided that Jotunheim was the safest place that I could be at the moment; and Tony shipped me off-world. The Avengers- save for Thor- all agreed to remain in the Tower in case there was another problem. In case they were needed again.

Loki followed me onto his world, his planet. He still said nothing. He knew that my mind had reconstructed itself, in that time of unraveling yarn. That I was stable once again, that I was whole once more, and that there was no Shadow-Controlling Psychopath whispering in my ear. But he didn't say a word about it.

We went into our room. I changed in the bathroom, into my pjs, just like always. I came back into the room and found Loki on the bed, just like always. I sat down next to him, just like always. But tonight, as I curled up next to him, he pushed me away.

"Frost-" He said the word through a thin, tight throat, a choked sound. He held up one hand, not speaking for a moment. There was so much rage in his eyes that I didn't dare speak first; nor to try and get close to him again. "Don't," he ordered, still sounding strangled.

It was a long few minutes before he could pull himself together again, before he trusted himself to speak. When he did, his words were slow and carefully measured, but spoken haltingly, as he seemed to be having a hard time getting them out without shouting.

"If you ever…" He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again. "If you _ever._ Cut me out like that again, Frost, I swear…"

He didn't seem capable of thinking of a threat bad enough to fit such a crime. His hands were shaking again. The back of his black pupils sparked with magical energy. He was pissed. He was _beyond_ pissed. I knew that he'd been furious with the Council, that most of his anger was reserved for them… but it still hurt, to know how much of it was directed at _me._

But I couldn't let it hurt. So anger found its way into me in turn. "You'll… what, Loki?" I prodded, almost silently. When he did not answer, but merely kept his teeth gritted together, I added, "Kill me?"

"I thought I might have to!" He rounded on me suddenly, shouting now, shouting at last, as he had been fighting against doing for such a long time now. "I thought I might have to _kill_ you, Frost, before you killed so many others! I thought I was going to have to _destroy_ you before you threatened the life of your world, I was… I was _terrified_ of what you might do and you… you _cut me out! You kept me out and you wouldn't let me in to_ _ **help**_ _you, to_ _ **save**_ _you!_ You could have _killed_ so many _people,_ and you know, _you know,_ what _**I**_ have to _**do**_ if _**you**_ are a _**threat**_ _!"_

I stared at him. He was shaking still, but no longer in fury, no longer in rage. In fear. In the terror of what he had almost done. I took his hand. "It's… it's what I'd want you to do, Loki," I whispered. "If I went too far. You know that."

"Could you?" he asked, almost in a moan. "Could you do it to me, Frost?"

My eyes prickled. My words were weak as I asked, "Haven't I already? Haven't I proven that the safety of the worlds comes first? Even"- my voice cracked- "Even above you?"

"Well _I_ do not share that _strength,"_ the Jotun King told me coldly. "And _I_ will not be the instrument of _your_ _**suicide**_ _."_

He turned away, standing off the bed and turning away. "I love you, Natalie," he said, quietly. It was the first time he'd said my first name throughout the entire conversation. "Seeing you hurting like this… destroys me. But I can't let you… I can't keep letting you destroy _yourself._ You… you have to decide, Natalie. You have to decide if you are willing to live with who Fraye made you into. _Who._ Not _what._ "

He turned away. For a moment, I couldn't go after him. I was too angry. I was too hurt. All of this shit I'd been going through, and he thought _now_ was a good time to _lecture_ me?

But then I was crawling across the bed, reaching out for him, gripping the back of his shirt just as he was about to move out of my reach. "Wait. Please." My voice quivered a little.

He paused. He watched me. And I looked up to him, feeling… scared. "I don't want… I'm not trying to die. I'm not trying to turn… into the monster that you have to eradicate. I'm just… trying to make sense of it." My eyes kept prickling. My chest started to hurt, to feel tight. "I'm trying to figure it all out, Loki, I'm trying not to… I don't _know_ what I'm trying to do, but I know that I can't… I can't do it _without_ you." My vision blurred. If I didn't know better, I'd say that I was crying. "Please don't make me do this without you."

His eyes softened. He took my hand, still clinging to his shirt. "Never," he promised.

My chest remained tight as I saw the guilt in his eyes. The real reason he was agreeing: his own guilt and shame. It tore me apart. "It's not your fault," I whispered. "What happened to me. It's… it's not your fault I'm like this."

"I know," he lied.

"It's _not._ "

He took my hand, pulling it closer to himself, kissing my fingers gently. "I know," he repeated the lie, as though trying to make us both believe it.

He wrapped his arms around me, and I curled into his chest, broken remnants of who we once were, holding each other together. And that was how we remained, as day turned to night, and the darkness claimed the world once more.

* * *

Tiff was waiting for me in the park.

It had been a nightmare, trying to convince the Avengers to let me keep this meeting. In the end, they only agreed to allow it if they were allowed to tag along; and even now, they were scattered throughout the park, in various hiding places. Watching me. Making sure there was nothing wrong.

There wasn't. Not anymore.

I snapped my phone closed as I walked up towards the spy. She watched me as I approached, monitoring my footsteps cautiously. She seemed to have already noticed the Avengers, despite how they hid, seemed to have already known that they were there. But then, she was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.; it would be only too obvious, to her.

As for me… she didn't seem quite sure of what to make of me as I came towards her, slowly, steadily, without any of the hate that had been in my eyes the day before. A strange sense of calm had enveloped me, following what had been said and done the day before. In the time that I'd had to regain control over my emotions, I'd managed to stuff all of the pain and the anger aside. I'd managed to hide it away, to release it, to let go of the insane rage that had made me so… uncontrollable.

I sat down on the bench next to Tiff. She had known which park I was talking about, had known which bench to meet me on, just like a friend would. We'd met in this spot a few times before, after all.

She said nothing as I looked ahead, sitting on the bench beside her. For a long moment, neither of us said a word. It was almost a content silence; but, really, could it be? Could we be content, with all of the lies?

"So," I said at last. "How're your 'parents'?"

She looked to me, biting her lower lip as she studied me. "They're fine," She answered at last. "A little shaken up. Truth be told, they thought you'd do worse. They said you lost it."

"I did."

She snorted. We fell silent. I hadn't hurt Leo and his partner, not badly. I knew that I could've. If they hadn't spilled so quickly, anyway. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were usually pretty resistant to torture, so I was surprised that they spilled at all. The charade, after all, had been for my sake. Why drop it so quickly, if it meant that S.H.I.E.L.D. would become my enemy? Possibly even the enemy of Jotunheim?

"So… what you said," I went on after a moment. "About your parents. Your brother. How they died." I looked across the vast expanse of greenery before me. "That was true, wasn't it? I mean… mostly?"

"How d'you figure?" She asked. Not denying it, not yet. But questioning me. It was the way spies talked; giving nothing unless something could be gained in return. Secretive and hoarding of their information.

"Because you didn't tell S.H.I.E.L.D. that you told me," I answered. "Otherwise they wouldn't have put in false parents after your 'death'."

She swallowed. I was looking at her now, but she seemed unable to face me. Her eyes were distant. "I _did_ tell S.H.I.E.L.D.," She told me quietly. "I don't know why they planted agents on the field when they weren't needed. I…" She glanced to me, briefly, before her eyes went away again. "I asked Fury why he'd done it. Why he'd let such an obvious slip happen."

My eyebrows furrowed. "And what did he say?"

She looked to me again, a wry glint in her eye. The corner of her mouth threatened to rise. "'Oops'."

"Tuh!" I grunted, a smile threatening on my own lips as I turned away, shaking my head. So Fury had planned this. He'd known this would happen all along. Maybe I should've been surprised, but I wasn't; it only made sense. Why it _had_ been so obvious. Why the agents had sang so quickly, before I had the chance to do anything to them. Why Fury had been waiting for me, so calmly and patiently. Tiff and I were quiet again, feeling the warm sun bearing down on us. It was a nice day, warm and sunny, with a few clouds scattered to keep the worst of the shafting sunlight out of your eyes. But I was far too used to the cold to appreciate it.

"I didn't want to lie to you," Tiff spoke up again, after a minute. "I mean… you weren't just another target. Not after…"

"I get it, Tiff."

She looked to me. I leaned back on my hands and closed my eyes. "You're a spy. Spies lie. I've spent too long around Romanoff and Barton to get hurt about that anymore." I shook my head. "I wish that hadn't been the case. I wish you weren't just another flunkie, sent by S.H.I.E.L.D., to keep your eyes on me." She flinched at the word 'flunkie', but I carried on as though I had not noticed. "What I _don't_ get is why you thought it was _okay_ to just… _back out_ like that. Why you let yourself die off. Why it had to be a _suicide_ of all things."

She was studying me. I could feel her eyes on my face, though mine were closed once again. She looked me over for a long time as she considered her response.

"Because I was getting too close," She said at last.

My eyes peered open again. I looked to her. She was looking away again, her eyes studying the grass. "S.H.I.E.L.D. put me in the field. They told me to watch you, and I did. I talked to you, initiated contact… but it was _you_ who became friends with _me_." She laughed, shaking her head out a little, making her wild curls bounce across her shoulders. "It's frightening, how easy that was. Not just for the mission… but for me to just… be your friend. I thought it would be difficult. I thought… I mean, you had a propensity for sensing when a person was a spy. You noticed things that no one else could. And you were the single most paranoid, untrusting person that I'd ever met."

I flinched, and now it was _her_ turn to pretend not to notice. "I thought that becoming your 'friend' would be _impossible,_ " she emphasized. "But it was the easiest mission I'd ever done. Because all I had to do… was be myself. I _had_ to be a _spy._ You _related_ with me _as a spy._ All of those civilians… we couldn't have talked with them the way we talked to each other. They couldn't… _relate._ And then there was Be-"

She stopped talking abruptly. Her eyes went down. But I knew what she had been about to say.

"Then there was Ben," I filled in for her, quietly. She closed her eyes.

"I didn't want to hurt him," She said quietly. "He was just supposed to be a mark, another way to get closer to _you._ Another way for me to be able to keep an eye on you without raising suspicion. I told you, Natalie, I have a habit of breaking hearts." She smiled sadly at me. "But… he was a good kid. And he wasn't as naïve as I thought he was; he… he'd seen terrible things in his life and somehow… somehow, he was still smiling. Every day. Still grinning from ear to ear and _laughing_ and then…" She shuddered. "Then he said he loved me. And I realized that I wasn't sure how I actually felt in return… I realized I was too close. I needed _out,_ Natalie, can't you understand that?"

I could. I'd heard spies talk this way before. It was a terrible thing, to find yourself enamored of your own cover story. It was so looked down upon, such a frightening thing to realize you had. For an agent… it was the equivalent of finding out that, really, you were just _weak._ You were _compromised_ and it was your own damn fault.

"I understand it, Tiff." I answered. She looked to me, and I watched the path in the grass, where a lonesome figure made its way through the park, weaving amongst the crowd. "But it's not _me_ that you have to convince. Not _me_ that you have to apologize to."

Tiff looked to me, confused, as I stood. "I suppose you can say that we're still friends," I told her, feeling strangely nonchalant. "The question is…" I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder to the figure that was steadily getting closer. "Can you two still be more than that?"

Tiff's eyes grew wide with horror as she recognized the person approaching. She immediately lurched to her feet, preparing to run, but I snatched her arm by the sleeve and pulled her, hard, until she lost her balance and almost fell into me. Pushing her back into a seat, I held her shoulder against the bench and pressed it there until she gasped in pain. "Natalie, please, don't do this!" She hissed out, her eyes wild with fear.

"I didn't do any of this," I told her coolly. "You did."

"Oh, hey, Natalie, there you are!" A friendly, too-cheery voice called. I turned to where Benjamin Osner stood behind me, trying to smile through the pain of having lost someone he loved. "You wanted to see m-"

His words cut off in his throat as he caught sight of the spy that I was still holding against the bench. His eyes grew wide. He froze in place, shock and fear on his features.

"Actually, Benny," I said quietly. "I think you two have more to talk about than I do."

I released Tiff, but there was no point in her trying to run now. She had been seen. I hooked my thumbs in my pockets and wandered off, crossing the grass and leaving the two behind in silence.

I approached the small group of trees where Natasha had concealed herself. "Think we can grab some ice cream or something before we go home?"

She emerged out of the darkness, silently ghosting to where I stood. Her eyes indicated clear disapproval, but she voiced none of it. She turned and walked away, heading for the Tower. I sighed and followed.

"Guess that's a no, then."

She didn't respond. She simply walked me home.

* * *

Loki wouldn't let me out of Jotunheim for a month, that much was pretty guaranteed. And even then, he promised, I'd be let out on probation only. I sighed and gave up the idea of passing my semester in college. He would, occasionally, allow me into the Tower to call my friends, so that it would be clear that I hadn't just dropped off the face of the Earth. In the few weeks that had passed, I'd managed to figure out that Tiff's 'death' had been labeled as an accidental misprint in the paper, and that she had been away on vacation at the time. It was a scare for our friends, but she was implanted back into the field, so no harm done.

But Ben and I, of course, knew the truth. He knew that Tiff's 'mother' had discovered the scene. He knew too much. And so, in the end, Tiff had told him everything.

Their relationship was also on probation.

So now I was stuck on Jotunheim, and if it weren't for Puck, I'd have shot myself in the foot ages ago. I loved the place, I did, I just wished that Loki wouldn't turn it into my prison quite so frequently.

Loki and I had managed to remain mad at each other for an entire week before we had completely made up. The idea that I would just shove him out of my head like that terrified him; and terrified me besides.

I started to go to a Healer a few times a week. She specialized in cases of mental instability, and I always emerged from these sessions in a state of magic-induced calm and bliss. I didn't like it; it messed with my emotions, made me lose control over my own emotional state. But I did it for Loki's sake. Also because Clint threatened to 'bury me deep' if I didn't start getting _some_ form of help.

Still, it wasn't _all_ bad. I started helping Puck with his magic training more often, lightening the load of Loki's work. He was starting to settle in to the throne and its duties quite nicely, and Puck was coming along brilliantly in his studies. He was a bright kid.

I also started spending a bit more time with Fenrir. While still suspicious of both him and the half-breed, and while the two of them seemed to always be at odds with each other, I found that I rather liked both of them; though I was permanently uneasy around Fenrir most of the time. Something about him didn't _sit_ right with me.

Besides this, I started getting more involved in Jotun politics. I figured that I was on the planet now, anyway; I might as well figure out what was going on with it. I _was_ going to rule one day, after all. That pressure was a little frightening, but I dealt with it; and Loki and I started having conversations about what could be done to help the kingdom every night. Conversations like a King and Queen _would_ have.

After babying my emotions for a week, we started having _other_ conversations, too. And, as I started re-stabilizing, we started talking about things of consequence, things that we had been avoiding discussing: namely, the wedding.

"So basically, we have a white dress, like on Earth," I said one night, as Loki and I sat across from each other at a table. He was working on some of the more mind-numbing tasks, filling out pages that he did not have to divert his whole attention to, and was thus grateful for the distraction that I provided. I, on the other hand, was sketching, though I only managed a line or two a minute. "But it's in a Jotun style. We have a Jotun ceremony… but we've gotta have some way to make it Earth-official, you know?"

He nodded, not looking up from the parchment.

"And I take it we're scrapping the 'ring' thing, since we've already got a number of Earth influences on the whole ceremony. We have a maid of honor and a white dress and everything…" I shook my head, pressing into my forehead with two fingers. "Ugh, this is harder than I thought it'd be."

He almost rolled his eyes, but refrained. I thought in silence for another few moments before dismissing the whole topic, waving a hand and saying, "Ah, well. It's still a long way's away; we've got time to figure it out."

The instant I said the word 'time', Loki flinched. He covered it swiftly with a hesitant, "Aye", but that didn't stop me from catching it. I looked to him, confused and somewhat worried. I quelled both emotions as best I could; I couldn't let myself feel too much of anything these days.

"What's wrong?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing. Loki cringed, knowing he'd been caught, and looked up to me with a deep sigh, a heavier sound than I'd expected.

"It's nothing we must discuss now, Frost," he told me, but I could see the conflict in his eyes. He was saying this only because he did not wish to bring forward a conversation that may yet make me lose it again. I couldn't really think why anything that had to do with the wedding would make me _lose_ it, though; even if it _was_ a little stressful.

"Nothing we _have_ to," I admitted. "But it seems to be something that you _want_ to."

He gave me an unfathomable look. I quirked an eyebrow and leaned forwards, across the table, on my elbows, propping my chin up in my hands. "C'mon, Loki," I urged. "We're both adults here. If there's a problem… talk to me about it."

He opened his mouth to respond, and for a moment, I was certain that he was going to give a cutting remark about how I hadn't spoken with _him_ during recent events… but the anger for that incident had died down a while ago, and if these words _were_ in his mind, he pushed them very far back. Instead, he said, contemplatively, "It is not… a _problem._ I merely feel…" He trailed off, studying me, his lips mashing together.

"Feel… what, Loki?" I prodded gently, reaching forwards to take his hand. He didn't respond. "It's okay, you know. You can tell me." When he still said nothing, I added dryly, "It's not like I won't find out sooner or later."

He smirked, briefly, before sighing quietly and saying, "Oh, very well." He carefully pushed the pages of parchment aside, giving me his full attention. "To put things simply, Frost," he confessed, " _You_ are comforted by the idea that our wedding is a far-off, distant prospect. _I_ am not."

My eyebrows shot up. It seemed to be the anticipated reaction, because Loki sighed once again, more heavily this time, a hint of exasperation in the sound. His red eyes bored into the table as he admitted, "The time I have with you is limited, Frost. We have known that from the beginning." His eyes flicked up to me now as he added, "And if it must _be_ limited, then why must we limit _ourselves_ in turn? We were engaged within days of being 'together'; and because of that, we are postponing our marriage. Because the world would look down upon us- the _Avengers_ and your _family_ would look down upon us- for marrying so… _quickly,_ within falling in love with each other." He shook his head. "But if there has ever been anyone who has proven more than we have that this relationship can survive any hardship, can survive the test of time… well, I have yet to meet such a person."

I blinked. Loki pressed on, his words seeming unstoppable now that they were finally coming out. "You yourself know that the only reason you are content with our wedding _being_ a distant prospect is because you have been… _programmed,_ by your society, to believe it rash and reckless to marry a man within a few months of knowing him. But you and I have known each other for years, Frost. And it is not _possible_ for us to know each other any better than we already do. Is that not the case?"

I stared at him for a moment, completely taken aback. He surprised me. That was rare, that Loki could surprise me anymore… but every so often, he managed it. I would've thought that he was just as hesitant as I was, that he would have been burned so many times that, even now, even knowing me like he did, he would be cautious. But now I remembered: I was mortal. He was not. And he was even now watching me slip away from his life, even now watching me dissipate and fade. Of course he would wish for us to marry now. Of course he would wish for us to be… well, 'official'. Final. He had such a limited time with me, after all…

I swallowed, my mouth and throat suddenly dry. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and realized that my palms were sweating. I quickly pulled my hand away from his and tried to wipe it off on my pants. Loki kept watching me as I tried to figure this out, as I tried to put all of the pieces together. It was so obvious to me, now. How could I have been so blind? All those times where I said that we 'didn't have to worry', that it was 'a long way off'… when that was exactly what he was worried about in the _first_ place…

And he got mad at _me_ for cutting off _my_ emotions… how long, exactly, had he been _hiding_ _ **this**_ …?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then, opening them again, I said, "Okay."

His eyebrow arched.

"Okay," I repeated. "So let's set a date, then."

The other eyebrow joined the first. He sat back in his seat, watching me with an old, almost arrogant curiosity. "Are you certa-" he tried to say, but I cut him off.

"What's the point of delaying it?" I demanded. "What's the point of… of _waiting_ any longer? You want to get married. I do, too. I just thought… I mean… well, you're right. We're not going to know each other any better than we already do. And if anyone can make it work, even through a bunch of crazy shit… it's us. We can do this." I leaned back as well. "So when?"

He almost smiled. In fact, he had to fight very hard to keep himself from doing so. But his face remained otherwise neutral. "Well, the preparations alone should take a few months," he said slowly. "And we still have yet to tell your father," he added as a reminder. I winced; my mother had backed off on telling him after she found out what had happened between me and Tiff… but I knew I'd have to tell him sooner or later, anyway.

"I'll tell him Friday," I said. Loki looked up to me, curious, and I added, "If you let me off-planet. Mom wanted a family dinner, with us and the Avengers. She tried to set it up for this Friday. I told her I was grounded, but if we open up the possibility again…"

He almost frowned. "Are you certain that is wise? Considering… events of late?"

"It's better than sitting around here doing nothing," I replied firmly. "Besides. You and the Avengers would be there; so even if I _do_ lose it… well, there's no safer place in the universe, right?"

His frown deepened. But he did not protest again; he merely carried on planning once more. "Well, if we are to set a date, we shall have to inform the People," he mused. "The union of Shadowslayers will be a much-anticipated event, I'm certain."

I nodded, ignoring the brief shudder that went through me as he said that. "And it's not exactly going to be a 'simple' wedding, either. We'd need more than a few months; there're too many things to deal with." I started ticking things off on my fingers. "The blending of Jotun and Midgardian tradition- and the possible addition of Asgardian traits as well. The guest list: that place is bound to get crowded. Then there's the security; we'll be there, with the Avengers, but I don't put it past… certain people, to try and stage some sort of… shall we say, violent protest?"

Loki nodded grimly. This union wouldn't be a celebration for everyone; it had already been proven to me, time and time again, that some people just really didn't like the idea of having a human as their Queen. I sighed, running a hand down my face. Loki, the Avengers and I could all take care of ourselves; and a great deal of the crowd as well. But it couldn't hurt to have a little extra security on the place, for the innocent bystanders. Besides, with all of these political figures in one place… well, that was always a provocation of fate.

"I shall have to discuss things with certain contacts," Loki said after a moment, "But I believe a date can be managed within… six months?"

My heart jumped into my throat. Six months was more of a specific then I'd thought it could be. But I nodded. "Yeah," I said, my throat even drier than it had been before. "Six months sounds great."

Loki started studying me again, watching my features. I tried to make my face as resolute and steadfast as possible and, seeing that, seeing the stone in my eyes, he smiled a little at last. Taking my hand, holding my fingers, he inquired, "Does it frighten you, Frost?" his words were a breath, light and a little bit teasing. "To be bound to me irrevocably?"

"Why would it?" I asked in turn, steeling myself with a callous shrug. "I already _am_ bound to you, aren't I?"

He chuckled lightly, brushing his thumb across the top of my fingers, tracing it there gently, smoothly. "You are," he agreed. "And every bind that ties us has always been a willing one, on your part." His head tilted to the side. "So why? Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid."

The look he gave me showed very clearly just how much he believed me. "Your heartbeat says differently," he informed me, still somewhat mockingly.

I winced inwardly. I could feel my own heartbeat, and it was true; it was beating a little too quickly, a little too fast, when compared to the steady, even one that was settled just behind it. The heartbeat that shadowed my own. I sighed quietly, and for a moment, Loki let me sit there in silence.

Finally, not looking at him, smiling sadly, I said, "You know… almost every little girl dreams about the day she grows up and gets married. The day she finds Prince Charming, who sweeps her off her feet and waits for her at the end of the aisle. Some little girls even have it all mapped out; they play-act it and talk about what their dream guy is going to be like. And he's always… perfect." I sighed quietly. "And while you are… _perfect,_ for me… when I mapped out Prince Charming, I wasn't exactly planning for him to be the Norse god of Mischief."

I looked up to him and smiled weakly. He didn't react, with smile or frown. His expression was unfathomable, staring back at me, watching me, studying me. I looked down again, avoiding his eyes.

"I guess… that there's something kind of… _frightening,_ about growing up and realizing… that love… love does weird shit. That what you had in your head wasn't what you ended up with… and probably wasn't good for you in the first place." I smiled at him again, even more fragilely than before, and said, "You're… pretty much the opposite of what I had in mind when I was a kid… but I look at what I had in mind back then, and, as perfect and pretty as it was, if I ever met a guy that was really _like_ that… I think he'd make me retch."

His eyes, at last, gleamed a little. I shrugged. "It's not being bound to _you_ that scares me," I admitted. "It's… letting go of this last little thing. Growing up this last little bit. Letting everything change… once and for all." I tilted my head to the side. "Does that make sense?"

He smiled softly. "It makes perfect sense," he said quietly. "After all; I hardly believed that I would marry at all. Least of all a _mortal._ " He scanned me up and down. "And never someone like you."

I rolled my eyes, my smile growing a little stronger now. "Guess we all have to grow up sooner or later, huh?"

"It would seem so," he agreed.

I kept smiling at him as I released his hand. We sat across from each other for a long moment… then, finally, I stood. I crossed the room and kissed his cheek; he turned his head so that he could give me a swift peck on the lips, then let me walk on, past him, and out of the room.

"Six months, huh?" I added, just before I breezed out. "I think we can manage that."

* * *

Puck's former 'master' paced, back and forth, back and forth, across the floor. Waiting. Waiting for him. He sighed, emerging from his hiding place, where he had watched her nervous staccato across the floor.

"Hello, Fiely," he greeted her quietly. The anxious Giantess seemed to jump a little, whirling on him and clutching her heart; where the amulet that he had given her in their last encounter still rested, held in place by the chain around her neck.

Fiely looked at him, staring, holding herself as tall as she possibly could. She swallowed, but did not speak, and Puck sighed quietly. "You wished to see me?" He prodded carefully.

She kept staring at him for a long moment. Their meeting place was well removed from the palace; the words they spoke would be in secret, hidden away from those who may whisper them into the ears of the King. She swallowed tightly. "I found my son." She blurted at last.

"Naturally," Puck said with a nod.

"He was safe. Where you said he'd be."

"Of course."

The two were quiet for a few moments. The half-breed watched the giantess, gauging her movements, her features, the fear in her eyes.

"You said you didn't take him," she said at last.

"I did not," Puck agreed.

"But you knew where he was."

"I did."

"How?" Her voice became somewhat strangled as her words tried to rush out of her. "How did you know, if you didn't take him?"

Puck sighed quietly, giving her a small shrug. "I have told you all that I can. If there was more to tell, you would know it."

She was already shaking her head. "No. No, my son disappeared eight _years_ ago. How many years have you been in Jotunheim, Half-Breed? _How many?_ "

"Only the one. This one."

"Do not _lie_ to me-"

"How could I?" Puck asked, somewhat exasperated. "Surely I would have been _noticed_ if I were here for longer! I was on Jotunheim for less than a week before being forced into slavery; how could I have taken your son?"

"You must have!" She shouted, her voice rising in volume and fervor. "You _must_ have! You _knew!_ After everyone else had… you _knew_ where he was!" Her eyes were wild and scared. For a moment, Puck found himself pitying her.

"I knew because I _had_ to know," he said quietly. "There are things that I _must do,_ Fiely-"

"Things that involve the Shadowslayers?" She demanded in a hiss. He fell silent. "What is it that you _want_ with them, half-breed? What are they to you?"

 _What are they to you?_ Puck laughed, mirthlessly. He was unable to stop himself. "You couldn't believe me if I told you, m'lady."

Fiely stared at him. Her eyes were still wide, but hardening, turning dangerous. "I will not allow your treason to threaten the king. Understand that."

Puck sighed heavily. "As I've told you before: I mean them no harm. I never have."

She so clearly did not believe him. But Puck had been catering to this woman's fears and paranoia for so long now. He was finished. "But if you mean to tell them of what I've done, then by all means, Fiely, _tell them."_ He turned away, turning his back on her. "I will not _stop_ you."

And then, without another word, he walked away.

* * *

I fidgeted in the back of Tony's car, straightening my necklace every two minutes, and straightening Loki's tie and collar every three. He put up with it, keeping his expression neutral and even, his spine straightened, and the spark in his eye border lining on his old arrogance. In the driver seats ahead of us, Stark and Clint were mostly quiet, though I knew that they caught each other's eye in the rearview mirror every so often and grinned like idiots.

It had been yet another struggle, getting every Avenger to agree to the invite that my mother had already given most of them. In the end, I'd gotten them to agree, of course, but it had taken some convincing; and a little bit of manipulation, seeing as each Avenger only agreed for their own reasons.

For example, Tony and Clint. The two of them had been adamantly against such a… well, _docile_ evening; until I pointed out that I was actually glad they'd refused, mentioning how much I hated it when worlds collided, and how my mom was likely to say whatever embarrassing thing that came to her with absolutely no filter. Tony, clearly remembering his first meeting with my mother, (and the number of baby pictures she showed) immediately signed up. Clint knew it was a manipulation on my part, but he joined right afterwards, anyway, claiming he 'couldn't resist'.

Thor and Steve- in the other car with Natasha and Bruce- had been the easiest to convince. Steve, quite honestly, found it a relief; and a charming reminder of his old life. An invite to dinner at a friend's house, with the friend's family; it was something they wouldn't even blink at during his time, I was sure. I hadn't even had to find an edge with him; he agreed immediately.

The same was pretty much true for Thor. He'd found it somewhat difficult to find time to pull away from the throne, but hey, rank had its privileges. If the king wanted to go away on vacation in Midgard, well, that was the king's business, and his right. He gave little to no thought of how stressful the evening might be, which worried me a little, but I let him have his naïveté for the time being.

Banner, however, though I'd expected him to be an easy sale, was only too acutely aware of exactly how _'stressful'_ this evening could become. Reminding me that it was for the best, he _had_ decided to stay at the Tower; and only a tiny reminder that I, too, was in a bit of danger of losing control changed his mind.

In the end, Bruce went for the same reason that Natasha did: to keep an eye on me. To keep me in check.

So now, here we were. I'd told them all beforehand about my 'forgetful' slip on telling my father the big news on my engagement; and I told them how my mother found out. Most of them cringed at the thought of what that would mean, and I did get a lecture or two, demanding to know why I hadn't said anything. I'd lifted an eyebrow and asked if they could tell their parents that they were marrying the Norse god of Mischief.

Most of them shut up after that.

I straightened my necklace again, checking my purse to make sure that the engagement ring was still there. It was about the fiftieth time that I'd done that, so Loki finally took pity on me, pulling the ring out of the purse and sliding it on my finger again, before waving his hand and, in a shimmer of illusion, making it disappear. I, however, could still feel its weight on my hand, and a bit of relief managed to quell my nerves. I shot him a silent 'thanks' and held his hand for the rest of the journey, my stomach twisting a little. But I had it under control. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.

Our car arrived first; and we all walked towards the door together, though Tony and Clint admittedly tried to make Loki trail in the back a bit. I refused to let that happen, keeping him at my side as I knocked. Loki, of course, had an immediate expression of haughty disdain on his face, which I chided him silently for, until he forced it into something more… unreadable.

My mother arrived at the door with an enormous smile on her face. She babbled in Spanish for a moment, talking excitedly of how good it was to see me, giving me a swift hug, before including everyone else in the conversation and encouraging them to, "Come in, come in!"

We all meandered inside, though my mother stayed at the door, clearly waiting for the other Avengers, whom I could see piling out of their own car, heading towards the door. Natasha moved silkily into the house, gauging the doorway- and my mother- as though monitoring for potential threats. She didn't exchange any greetings, but she did nod, just the slightest touch, to my mother. Steve clasped her hand and smiled warmly- they'd met before, after all- and Thor did the same, claiming boisterously that my mother had a wonderful home, and he was grateful for her hospitality.

My parents had, for the most part, indirectly met most of the Avengers. But my mother had only seen Thor up close once that I could remember, and she seemed just a smidgen intimidated by him. And who wouldn't be, tall as he was, with those _insane_ arm muscles. He was even, despite my warnings that the evening dress code was 'Midgardian semi-formal', still in his armor. But, after seeing his crazy huge smile and brilliant, friendly eyes, she seemed to relax a little, though her gaze kept flitting to the war hammer in his belt. She swallowed and said, almost tentatively, but as firmly as she could manage, "I would very much appreciate it if we could leave weaponry at the door…?"

Thor turned back and blinked at her, then looked down to his hammer as though he'd quite forgotten he was carrying it. He smiled genially and immediately said, "Of course!" Then pulled it out of his belt and set it down in front of the door.

"Ah, Thor?" Clint pointed out, "You might wanna move it away from the door, mmkay? In case we need to get out?"

Thor blinked again, then tucked the hammer into the corner with a grin and a, "Fair point, archer."

I cleared my throat noisily. "'Scuse me," I said sweetly. "But 'no weapons allowed' means you too, Clint." I clicked eyes on Natasha and added, "And you."

Clint scowled and Natasha looked back at me icily. Carefully removing the gun from her belt, hidden by her shirt, and the knife in her boot, she moved across the room and placed it next to Thor's hammer, where Barton had tossed his own blades.

"I would have rather thought," Natasha told me in a carrying whisper, "That the rule would apply for _everyone._ " Her eyes darted between myself and Loki in turn.

My face went hot, pink flushing across my cheeks, but I removed the knife I carried in my belt and tossed it onto the pile. Loki, looking highly annoyed, reached into his jacket and pulled out his own, sheathed blades- three in all- and also added this to the list, while my mother's eyes went huge.

She recovered fairly well- leader of a revolution and all that- and, still smiling, announced, "Well, that's better, isn't it?"

"Wait, hold on," Stark pulled something out from beneath the cuff of his sleeve and carelessly threw it atop of the knives and guns, narrowly missing Mjolnir. It gleamed, a shiny silver and glowing blue, as it landed. "Not entirely certain if it counts," he admitted. "But it just might, so there you go."

This, at last, seemed to make my mother a little nervous. Looking almost accusatorily to Bruce, daring him to admit to his concealed weaponry- of which he had, and _needed_ none- she turned away from us all at last and prodded, "Well then. Shall we?"

We headed into the dining room with my mother, which was spread out with a large amount of food. Food that my father must've cooked; and there he was, standing at the head of the table. He smiled at me, though it became weak at the sight of Loki beside me. I linked my hand in his firmly and dragged him towards a seat.

My mother asked for everyone to sit, and sit they did. There had been no polite, small chit-chat beforehand; it was just… immediately dinner. A lump started to form in my stomach, forcing me to wonder if I could eat anything at all, but the smells in front of me reminded me that I would never pass up on food again, and my stomach hollowed out quickly.

"Would anyone like something to drink?" My mother asked pleasantly, displaying the options in front of her. She'd cracked out a bottle or two of wine; which did not seem like it was going to be enough, seeing as everyone at the table who could actually enjoy the effects of alcohol asked for it; save for the spies, of course, who were never intoxicated if they could help it. Thor seemed rather surprised by the small size of glasses on Earth, even though my mother, who had been previously forewarned about the differences in Asgardian metabolism (and their love for getting snockered) had placed a larger mug in front of his place setting. Loki and I, naturally, turned instead to water, and exchanged weakly humorous looks at the memory of our last experience with alcohol.

My father was still pulling things out of the oven as we sat there, still preparing everything. I wished he'd stop; seeing him moving around made me feel idle, twitchy, and he kept leaving my line of sight. Also, the smell of this stuff was starting to make my mouth water, and I wasn't sure how much longer my self-control would hold out until I started picking at the rolls in the basket in front of me.

Natasha, very well versed in the art of breaking ice, did not force my mother to do all the speaking for long. Leaning forwards conversationally, she said, "This looks lovely, Mrs. Frost."

"It's Anna Rose, please," My mother said with a grin. "And it's hardly my work."

"You'd know if it was," I murmured against my glass as I took a small sip of ice water. My mother inclined her head to me, a clear indication of agreement.

"Where'd you learn to cook, Cameron?" Clint fell into the pattern with Natasha. He was, of course, not interested in the slightest, but the spies could play pretend at being friendly better than anyone.

"Picked it up, really," my father answered as he wove inside. "Grew up in a house with two sisters; they taught me the basics long before I could learn how to protest."

A few appreciative- and a few false- chuckles swept the room. Loki and I were silent, for the most part, though I'd promised myself that I would make myself speak as much-and as often- as I could. Just to let everyone know that I was still copasetic, that I could handle things.

The evening disappeared into a haze of small talk, and I put my voice in every so often, but Loki remained silent. Not for any means of protest or out of disrespect; that was just his nature. He was calculating, figuring things out. I knew this, and said nothing in return. The Avengers knew this, and said nothing in return.

Guess who _didn't_ know this?

"So what about you, Loki?" my mother asked, disguising the quiver in her voice quite well now that the atmosphere had turned a little friendlier. But the mere mention of his name put a little chill in the air that was impossible to warm up. "You haven't said a word all night. How is Jotunheim? Are the Renovations almost completed?"

I wondered who had informed her of Tony's term for what the Casket was doing to our planet. I realized that it might have been me and glanced to Loki, watching him silently. Aware of my eyes on him, but completely unconcerned, Loki answered with a smooth cordiality, "Not quite." He spoke with more warmth in his voice than either of us had expected, forcing himself to seem a little more… well, likable. He was, after all, a talented liar; and if he had to act in this way in order to keep me happy, then act he would. "Many cities have only the… ah… _groundwork_ in place, for the time being." He shrugged, very mildly, avoiding my father's eyes and taking a small bite of food.

"And what exactly are these 'Renovations'?" I think we were all surprised to hear my father speak up. Loki's eyes clicked on him, the two men watching each other with hard, studious eyes. My father did not blink or flinch away, merely kept the Trickster's gaze. "What has to be done, what changes?"

I think it was an attempt to be nicer. I was glad to see it, but my heart sank as I tried to think of how, precisely, my father would feel about his own friendliness after he discovered the truth about how close Loki and I really were. How official our relationship really was.

Loki considered for a long moment, taking a little longer than necessary to chew his food, setting his fork down with a slow movement. Swallowing, he said, "Well, rebuilding what has been destroyed, naturally. Those larger projects that could not be completed without the assistance of the Casket." His eyes darted to Thor here, giving him the smallest of nods, and the Thunderer nodded back before Loki turned to Cameron again. The other Avengers remained silent, with no extra side conversations, as everyone watched Loki speak. "And, of course, a regeneration of the magic in the land, restoring things to their rightful state." I could see him struggling to try and find words that would fit into a mortal vocabulary, and carefully, I stepped in.

"Basically, we're tearing the world down and rebuilding it from the ground up, one city at a time," I explained. "And the rebuilt cities…" The memory made me smile a little smile, sigh a happy little sigh. "Well, they're beautiful."

"So you've succeeded?" My mother prodded. "You have rebuilt?"

"Only a citadel or two," I corrected. My eyes flicked to Thor, who was trying not to seem overtly interested in this. He was still the king of another realm. And what we were saying now could very well be secrets of our own. "But what we have rebuilt is quite… well, fantastic." I found myself describing it despite myself, unable to stop the words as I remembered the sight. "There are these silver buildings, stabbing up at the sky, like… I dunno, like shafts of silver. But it's almost… _molten_ silver, twisting inside itself, filled with magic. And then there are the _colors…_ It's a world of ice, you see, and when what sun we have hits it just right, there's like this… _aurora._ As though the citadel is made entirely of light." I shook my head out. "It's beautiful."

The other Avengers, who had never heard this before, looked mildly interested. "I can imagine," my mother said quietly. I realized only then that Loki was watching me, a slightly bemused look on his face. He was making a valiant effort at suppressing a smile as he saw the wonder in my eyes, and I looked away, quickly, trying not to blush. So I got carried away sometimes. Sue me.

"And while we've rebuilt a vast majority of the palace," Loki put in, "It's been somewhat… difficult, with…" his eyes flickered to me and his lip twitched down. "Well, certain elements."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm too fragile," I translated, just before I took a bite out of a roll. Loki sighed, with a trace of exasperation.

"The temperature drops significantly whenever the casket is in effect," He explained to my parents, and the listening Avengers. "It lends to some complications, where a human is concerned. We have to insulate certain areas of the palace."

"With magic," I added, doing jazz hands. Tony snorted.

"Quite," Loki agreed with me dully.

For a moment, we all fell silent again, the only sound being the quiet clinking of silverware and the occasional rustle as the Avengers shifted in their seats. It was, at first, a semi-comfortable silence, but soon, tension returned to the room. I started unnecessarily stabbing a spinach leaf with my fork, giving it a few holes.

Clint and Natasha exchanged significant looks before the archer made another attempt to quash the awkwardness. I was somewhat touched by the spies' efforts in this matter; but I knew, somewhere, that it was just as much for their own benefit as it was for mine. Everyone here was worried about what stress might do to me; and what I might do to others in return.

"Nice trip wire across the back door, there," Clint said, far too casually, watching my parents carefully. "I see you've upped security. What's the occasion?"

My stomach gave a threatening lurch, my face heating up. And here I thought that the spies had _tact._ Or at least, that they could _fake_ it. When would they learn that normal people didn't _talk_ about that kind of stuff…?

But, far from being surprised by the topic, my parents both exchanged long, meaningful looks. I clearly recognized my mother's _don't-you-dare_ eyes as she looked at Cameron, but I knew that he was going against her will regardless as he turned back to us and said, "Actually, I meant to talk with you about that."

My mother set down her silverware. "Cameron. This isn't the time or place-"

"When would it be?" My father asked in turn, dryly. He had a point. He didn't exactly have the Avengers on speed-dial.

He looked up to the Avengers; specifically, to the spies. "We recently had a break-in."

" _What?_ " I asked. My father rolled his eyes- good-naturedly, I _think_ \- and repeated, "A break-in."

"Did you report it?" Natasha asked, switching effortlessly to interrogation mode, though her voice was still cool and her manner nonchalant. She even took an extra bite of salad.

My mother shook her head, seeming resigned to having this conversation that she had so clearly wished to avoid. "Not enough proof for that," she answered. When everyone looked back at her in confusion, she admitted, "Nothing was stolen, as far as we can tell. The only reason we knew anything was wrong was because the alarm system was completely off when we came home; and we _never_ shut it down completely."

"Also, there were a few things that had been moved around," Cameron added. "Little details, things that a cop wouldn't think significant."

"And maybe with good reason," Clint tried to interject, but my mother shook her head.

"I've lived in this house long enough, Agent Barton," She told him coolly. "I know when someone has been inside it. When things have been disturbed."

"Hey, guys," Tony interjected. "Shut up for a moment."

All eyes turned to him as he added, "They're at it again."

For Loki and I had not said a word since the mention of the break-in, had not voiced an opinion in the conversation at all. Instead, we were furiously communicating inside of our own heads, mental questions and answers firing back and forth. We continued to gesture and gesticulate even in our silence, however; so the fact that we were conversing was very apparent.

 _Is that possible?_ I asked Loki, with a surge of panic. _How can someone have broken in?_

 _Of course it is_ _ **possible,**_ Loki replied coolly. _But highly_ _ **unlikely.**_

 _But we set up magical barriers!_ I protested in turn. _When Murmur attacked, we had some of the mages protect this place-_

 _With a very_ _ **simplistic**_ _form of magic,_ Loki filled in for me, shaking his head. _They were relying on an intruder being_ _ **human**_ _, and thus, unable to wield magic._

 _So what are you saying?_

 _I would have thought it fairly obvious._

My heart sank. _So some mage has infiltrated my parent's_ _ **house**_ _? Why? What possible_ _ **reason**_ _could they have for_ _ **doing**_ _something like that, if it's not a_ _ **human?**_

 _You_ _ **are**_ _the Shadowslayer,_ Loki reminded me. _Fenrir_ _ **did**_ _warn us that there would be those who would wish to attack us-_

 _To gain respect,_ I completed, _but how would they know about my_ _ **parents?**_

 _A little research can go a very long way,_ Loki replied grimly.

"I could watch this all day," Tony mused. We were not paying attention to him; and he clapped his hands together, very loudly, in front of us. We jumped, looking to him as one. "Hey, lovebirds! Mind bringing the rest of us in on your little 'discussion'?"

Loki eyed him disdainfully, and I looked to my mother, startled. However, after a beat, I asked, "What was out of place? What did you notice?"

My parents exchanged looks. "Pictures, mostly," Cameron answered. "Though there was this hole in the carpet-"

"I told you, that hole's been there for years," My mother scolded, though even she seemed uncertain. I immediately stood.

"Which room?"

Anna Rose shot a dirty look at her husband. It was her _see-what-you-did_ look, and I was very well acquainted with it. But I didn't have the time to cater to it. "Yours," Cameron answered, and immediately, I was off. Loki followed with purposeful strides, and Natasha joined a moment later.

"Fill me in," She ordered as we walked into my room. I did so, and flushed at the state it was still in- a total mess from the last time. I straightened up hastily, trying to see the carpeting. I did so as Loki crouched down beside the hole in the rug; which, indeed, did look as though it could have been there for years.

"So the intruder was a mage?" A voice said behind us; and I realized that Steve and Clint had also followed.

"Not necessarily," Loki answered loftily. "But most definitely an immortal." He frowned at the carpet, his eyes traveling up to the dresser that was standing next to it. "Frost, look at this."

I crouched beside him, at the little nick in the wood. "The hell is…?"

"It looks like…" Loki replied, biting his lip.

"It could be," I agreed darkly.

"It could be any _number_ of things," Loki retorted. "That does not mean that it's-"

"Who _else_ would it be? How many other Wyrs do you _see_ on-"

"It isn't necessarily the work of a _Wyr-"_

"Well there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

He scowled at me. We had, as usual, left the Avengers completely in the dark with our muttered, broken sentences; but we didn't need to speak aloud to have our voices heard with each other, and so we frequently did not.

Loki reached forwards, gently tracing his index finger across the scratch on the wood, the hole in the rug- whatever, not like I liked the tacky thing anyway- before bringing it up to his eye level. The back of his eyes sparked with yellow-gold before mellowing out into a soft silver; a sheen of a sparkling silvery substance crossed his fingertips, threads of it reaching out and touching on the scratches in turn. They shone there, briefly, before fading into soft emerald and vanishing altogether.

"You _see?"_ I demanded in a hiss. "Now what the _hell_ is Fenrir doing in my _parent's_ house?"

"It is not necessarily _Fenrir's_ doing,"Loki replied savagely. "And, even if it were, there could be-"

"What kind of _explanation?"_ I snapped. "You think he popped by to borrow some _sugar?"_

"And what do _you_ think he was doing?" Loki demanded, tartly, in response.

"That's precisely what I want to _know!"_

"We can hardly go accusing-"

"And give him knowledge that we're _on_ to him? Why would I _accuse_ -"

"He deserves to know that he is being _suspected,_ Frost, surely you can afford him that-"

" _You_ wouldn't, if it was anyone _but-_ "

"But it _is,_ Frost, and I believe he has earned-"

" _Respect?_ _ **Respect?**_ Loki, he's-"

" _Schemer or not,_ he is one of my _oldest friends,_ and I will not have you-"

"They do this," Tony informed my parents. The entire party had gathered at the door by now. My father was watching our exchange with a somewhat pallid face. "A lot, actually," Tony added, as though he had only just realized the frequency of the occurrence. He clapped his hands again, a few times, and louder than before. "All right, break it up and bring us up to speed! Who the hell is _Fenrir_ and why is he a suspect?"

Loki and I were still glaring at each other. Sparks were firing between our stares, but the Trickster found it in himself to turn away with grace and hauteur. "Fenrir is a friend of mine," He replied icily. "A shapeshifter, known as a Wyr Wolf. He is _suspected,"_ here, he shot a dark look at the ground, "Because those marks were clearly made by one of his species." His eyes hardened. "That does not mean that it _was_ him."

"There aren't a lot of Wyr Wolves running around Midgard," I replied tartly, keeping my eyes on the Avengers. Making sure _not_ to look at Loki.

"Regardless," Loki replied coolly. "I trust him. If he _was_ here, there must be an _explanation._ " He stood, straightening himself out, and gestured to my parents. "After all, he did leave them _alive,_ as you can see."

I scowled. "I'd still like to know what he was doing here in the first place."

"It is an interesting question," Thor said slowly, looking somewhat disturbed. "And you must admit, brother, that Fenrir once had a particular… _habit,_ of using mortals. Toying with them, even."

Loki's face grew clouded, and I flinched, cowering away from him. That was an argument that I most certainly _could_ have made, but I had been smart enough _not_ to. Loki's voice and eyes had become snakelike as he moved closer to his brother, as he brought himself very close to the Thunderer, and said in a toxic hiss, "As did I, brother. Or had you forgotten that?"

His eyes flicked back to me meaningfully. I saw Cameron turn a little greyer.

"Just because you grew up," I told my fiancée darkly, "Does not mean that _he_ did; or that he shares your wisdom."

"He would have grown out of such things far sooner than I did," the Trickster retorted. "As you recall, his lover was an _Asgardian._ He knew better than to view an entire _species_ as his lesser simply because of their _difference…"_

"Yeah, but Asgardians are still immortals," Tony pointed out, tentatively. "Why would they-"

"Because Wyrs usually live longer," I admitted quietly. "And there are entire universes out there who believe that any species is 'lesser' than their own. It's actually one of the most common beliefs out there." I looked to Loki. "So why would he not believe it of us?"

Loki opened his mouth and was about to respond when a loud, exasperated sigh interrupted us all. "You see?" my mother's scolding voice rang through the room. "This is _precisely_ why I did not wish to bring this up. This was _supposed_ to be a nice, quiet dinner. The world isn't ending just because someone _might_ have broken in." Her hands were on her hips, her face in her best mom-ish expression. "Now, I would very much _appreciate_ it if we could _return_ to the _nice,_ and the _quiet_ portions of our evening?"

For a long moment, no one responded. Then, silently, Bruce moved to obey. He seemed all too willing to do so. Stark followed, a little more reluctantly, and Thor and the spies after that. Steve brought up the rear of the group while Loki and I lagged behind in my room, momentarily immobile.

After a few seconds, I started walking forwards. _This conversation is not finished,_ Loki warned me.

 _It never is,_ I replied, a little sadly. The two of us walked back to the dining room in stony, frigid silence; but as Loki saw the somewhat dejected look on my face, his hand _did_ slip into mine. I smiled weakly up at him, and together, we returned to the dining room.

* * *

It took a while, after dinner, for everyone to begin to meander into the living room. But, one by one, people started wandering off, holding their own separate conversations. Clint and Natasha appeared very relaxed and at home, though I knew this was not the case, and Tony was so confident in his place here that he began pulling family albums off of shelves to browse through. Loki and I remained next to each other, and though we had occasionally brushed upon the subject of Fenrir in our minds, we never once let the argument take place in the outside world. Instead, we acted as a couple would, as a couple _should._

As, eventually, the last stragglers- Steve and Cameron, immersed in discussion about the war- entered the room, Loki and I glanced at each other.

 _If there's a better time,_ I pointed out feebly, _I don't think it'll happen soon._

He watched me carefully, his eyes scanning me. Considering the news I had to tell to my father, Loki and I had been certain to have no other arguments, to give no cause to imagine that there was discord in our relationship. There _was_ , of course; no sane couple could go through what we had and come out without _some_ extra chaos, but it was most certainly nothing that we could not handle on our own.

Gauging me for a brief moment, Loki finally nodded his consent and gestured, vaguely, for me to follow through on my own words. My heart gave a quick little lurch as I stood up, swallowing hard against the dry lump in my throat.

I coughed, pointedly, clearing my throat and quelling my jittery nerves by scolding myself, _You have been through_ _ **so**_ _much worse than this. The worst thing that your father can do is disapprove. He can't hurt you, not really. Not with anything that won't heal over time._

Tucking my arm a little behind my back in an attempt to at least partially conceal my scars, I said, "Everyone?"

Eyes had already been turning to me, but those few who had not yet caught on now looked my way. I cleared my throat again. "Well, since… I mean, since everyone's here, I'd like to make an announcement."

Natasha, whom I could see trying to get a read on the situation, trying to determine what her cover story was meant to be, lifted an eyebrow. From what she could gather from that sentence, she would certainly be thinking that _everyone_ was meant to be in the dark about the engagement; and I could see that she heartily disapproved. I had told my family that there wouldn't be any more lies. No more deceit.

Give _that_ up.

But I wasn't planning on lying here today. My father would know the truth. The _whole_ truth. Even how long I'd been hiding our engagement. Besides, even if I _had_ wanted to lie to him, my mother was here, with the full story, to keep me honest.

There _was,_ however, something that I _did_ want to announce to everyone. Something related to the engagement. Taking a deep breath, looking directly at my father in spite of myself, I held up my left hand, where the illusion fell away and the ring gleamed on my finger. I said it quickly, trying to get the words out, but hopefully not so quickly that I was tripping over my own words. "Loki and I are engaged."

Clint immediately reacted with an expression of joy and false congratulations, as did Stark, but I shot them each a look in turn, and they shut up. Looking back to Cameron, I admitted, "Actually… we've been engaged for a while, now."

His face seemed to power off, his eyes shutting down to make repairs. Everything went out like a fuse, a blown light bulb, leaving me with hollow, dark glass, staring back at me emptily.

"And the reason I'm announcing it _now…_ " I went on, marching through my words like a soldier would, marching through the smoke and gunfire darkness around me, "Is because… well, we've set a date. Six months from now."

At last, the Avengers showed true, genuine surprise. Bruce smiled. "That's great, Natalie."

"Indeed!" Thor beamed. He alone seemed oblivious of the tension, immune to the anxiety that permeated the room, radiating off of my father and his still-unreadable features. "That is _wonderful_ news!" The Thunderer cried.

"Congrats," Clint said. Natasha inclined her head an inch to each of us as Rogers also smiled weakly at us.

"When?"

Thor blinked, looking to my father. His voice was somewhat hoarse. For a second, the King of Asgard looked perplexed by my father's slowness, and pointed out, "In six months, as she sa-"

My father shook his head swiftly, quickly. "No. _When_ did you get engaged?" His silver-blue eyes burned as they latched onto me. "Who else knew? Who else did you tell before… before you said _anything_ to your family?"

I watched him coolly. Natasha's eyes flicked across his weak spots- exposed throat and stomach- as she monitored him. It was a spy's silent way of saying 'shut the hell up', but most people weren't aware enough to pick up on it. Clint watched his partner, and Steve slouched a little, as though he had expected this reaction and was wearied by it. But Loki and I remained immobile, perfect stone, as we watched Cameron Frost.

"Everyone here," I admitted. My father heaved a sigh and buried his face in his hands, and I found my voice softening, just a little, as I added, "I wanted to tell you, dad. I just… didn't know how."

" _When,_ Natalie?" he asked against his fingers. " _When_ did this start?"

Loki and I exchanged a glance. "A few months ago. After the Battle of Shadows."

He sighed again, another sigh that suggested that the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. I felt oddly detached from the situation, unhurt and unthreatened by his anger or pain. How many times would I have to fight with my father over this? How many times would we have this argument?

Did it _matter?_ If I had to, I could leave this planet. I would never have to see my father again if I did not wish to. Midgard wasn't my homeworld, not anymore, _Jotunheim_ was. Jotunheim was where I would live and where I would rule. It was the planet I would protect. Earth could one day be little more than a distant memory, if that was what I allowed it to be.

Still. If I _could_ cling onto this part of my life… well, I did _want_ to.

There was silence for a long time. Even Thor seemed to have recognized the grievousness of the situation, for he, like everyone else in the room, was watching my father with a piercing intensity. Feeling all of the eyes on him, Cameron looked up, peering out of his fingers. He glanced around at each of the Avengers, then my mother, in turn. When at last his eyes rested on me, they tightened a little and, with one more sigh, he asked, "What is it that you want me to say, Natalie?"

It was a fair question. And, in all honesty, I wasn't sure that I had the answer.

"'Congratulations'?" He tried, then barked out a miserable little laugh. "Do you want me to say that I'm _happy_ for you, Natalie? That I'm _happy_ about the decisions you've made?"

Ah. There it was. There was my answer.

I shrugged. "I don't care, dad. Truth be told, I really _don't._ You can be happy for me or angry at me or worried for the rest of my life, but in the end, it doesn't matter. My decision's been made."

"Tuh!" he grunted out the word. "Your decision, huh?" His eyes glinted, turned to steel, as they locked on my arm. On the scars inscribed there. Standing, he turned away and demanded over his shoulder, "Are you sure it was ever _yours_ to begin with?"

And then he marched out of the room.

No one, save for my mother and myself, was even looking at the place where Cameron had left. All eyes were, instead, on me. Worried looks were exchanged between nervous Avengers, and Clint edged slowly towards the door, and the pile of weapons beside it. I ignored them. I ignored them all.

And then I charged forwards, following my father into the next room.

"Natalie, wait!" I heard someone call; and then Loki's voice, cutting them off with smooth, fluid certainty: "It's all right. She'll be fine."

And he was right. I would.

I followed my father as he stalked down the hall, as he turned a corner into his room, the one he shared with my mother. He tried to close the door behind him, unaware that he had a follower, and I stopped the door in its tracks. He still seemed clueless to my presence, until I stepped inside and closed the door behind me; then he turned, looking at me, seeming surprised that I had followed him here. But the shock of seeing me was replaced quickly with a morose, deep-rooted anger, bitter and slowly building, even now.

I slouched against the door, folding my arms and kicking my feet out a bit, leaning against the doorjamb on my shoulder. "Why, then?" I asked, cavalierly.

"Why _what?_ " He demanded in turn. I rolled my eyes and straightened, walking further into the room, ignoring the old photographs of our small little family, all staring at me with old eyes from inside dusty glass frames. The mementos that my mother liked to keep in here, of those times in which we were happy, those times before my father left, those times before the Avengers. Those times that I had once tried to bury beneath myself and was now trying to uproot once more, trying to dig gouges out of the soil and pull out the secret memories within.

"Why don't you want me to marry him, dad?"

He looked at me like I just dropped down from the moon. Like I was an alien invader in my own home, and he would not take kindly to my threats, to my demands to see his leader. "Isn't it _obvious_?"

I didn't respond. I just gave him my steeliest, most hard-edged glare, and waited for him to elaborate. He did so at last, throwing his hands up into the air and crying, "All right! All right, then! Why don't we start with everything he's done to me? Done to this _family?!_ "

I made a noise like a buzzer sounding off on a game show. " _EEEEH._ Wrong answer. Next?"

His expression was a mixture of incredulity, anger, and the slightest trace of fear. I watched him with neutral eyes and waited for him to go on, blustering in his rage, "All right, then! What about the fact that he _tortured_ you, Natalie? The fact that his _name_ is carved in your _arm!_ " He gestured wildly towards said arm, which I looked down at casually.

"Huh," I answered, tonelessly. "Bullshit."

His eyes bugged. "Whataya _mean,_ _bullshit_?" He snarled, taking a step forwards. "That's _exactly_ what-"

"I _mean_ that you were already trying to forget that," I pointed out, cutting him off and swaying a little, back and forth, before taking a step closer to him in return. However, mine was a calmer, more casual advance. "I _mean_ that you have been watching him. That you tried to speak to him. Talk to him. Even today. Until you learned that he was my fiancee, and then all bets were off." My head tilted. "So why? Why don't you want this to happen?"

Again, he stared at me. His eyes were wide and unblinking, scanning me. I let him scan. Let him try and figure me out. And in return, I just watched, silent and still.

At last, after a long half-minute, he took a few steps back, away from me. He stumbled on them a little, as though he couldn't quite get his footing properly. But, once he'd regained his balance, he turned dark, unfathomable eyes to me.

"Fine," he said. "Fine. I don't want you to do this because I know how you think."

This confused me, but I could tell from the way he said it- with that raw, unconcealed sincerity- that he was being honest at last; to himself as much as to me. So I retreated back a few steps as well, returned to my slouch against the doorjamb, and said, "Now we're getting somewhere. Continue."

He gave me a hard look, but he did as I asked. "I know you, Natalie. After everything that you've been through… everything that I said to you, everything that Loki _made_ me say… I know how you _think_. You think that you're a monster, that you're not _good_ enough for _anything."_ His silver-blue eyes turned molten before freezing over again as he said, "And I have to wonder if you think that Loki… is the best you'll ever get. The best that you deserve."

I blinked. It was a surprisingly perceptive leap, on his part. I wasn't used to my father being able to read my emotions, to know how I thought. But it was still wholly and abysmally inaccurate.

"He's tortured you already," my father went on in a voice that was getting progressively shakier. "He sentenced you to _death_ at the hands of a creature that even _he_ feared. Are you prepared to live with a man who is… _capable_ of doing that to you? Are you prepared to sentence yourself to living with him… for the rest of your life?" His eyes turned round, looking to me. For a second, they were almost… _innocent._ "What if he does it again, Natalie? What if he hurts you? What if he… he _hits_ you? Are you going to be able to walk away from him? As the Queen of Jotunheim, could you just… _leave_ him?"

I bit my lip. I could see the fears in his head, could see how they mapped themselves out in his mind. Considering what Loki had already done to me, abuse wasn't that big of a step; and to anyone who wasn't involved in our mental connection, it would seem entirely possible that, someday down the line, Loki _could_ do something like that to me. And, given my personality, and all of the crap that I'd _already_ taken from him… it wasn't hard to imagine me sitting there and taking it, clinging on to him with a perverse loyalty for the rest of my life. And, of course, as the Queen of Jotunheim, a human who was honored by being placed into a position of royalty among immortals… it was only too easy to see the Jotuns taking objection if their Queen abandoned their King; so how _could_ I leave, even if he was _hurting_ me?

I sighed, sitting myself down on the carpet and pressing my fingers together at their tips in front of me. My father, seeming uncomfortable with standing while I was not, also lowered himself to the ground, sitting on the floor with a little more hesitance and reservation. "Let me put it to you this way, dad. If Loki ever- _ever-_ hit me, in the way that you are thinking? Outside of training, outside of Avengers business, outside of all that craziness? If he ever _hit_ me, simply because he was… _angry_ or _upset,_ with me or with _anything else?_ I would kill him. Bury him six feet beneath the surface of Jotunheim and call it an accident."

"How do you _know_ that-"

"Because I've done it before."

His eyes went wide.

I sighed again and waved a hand about a few times, as though it could clear the air. "Not the killing a dude part, I wasn't capable of that before. But a lot happened in the years that you were gone, dad. I've been in relationships before. Not many, and most of them weren't that great, but I've still had a few boyfriends. And yes, one of them hit me." I sat back, leaning against the door behind me. "Long story short, April was nearby and things got a bit violent. I managed to keep her off of him, but I still ended things with him immediately. I kept April (and her pet shovel) off of him by allowing her to sharpie his name- and a long list of all the reasons he sucked- into the girl's bathroom stalls; and his locker. We warned all the other girls away from him, and he ended up going to prom with his cousin." I shrugged mildly. "And if it happened again, with Loki- which it _won't-_ then I could do it again. The other Avengers would back me up if Jotunheim took offense; and, in case you've forgotten, we're a pretty formidable force.

"Now. As for living with a man who is capable of sentencing me to death by Fraye… you're right. I couldn't live with someone like that for the rest of my life. But Loki is no longer capable of something like that. He did it once. He learned his lesson. It nearly killed us both and he could never, _never,_ do it again. He can't hurt me, dad. Not anymore.

"And you're right, dad. I _do_ think that Loki is the best I'll ever get. The best that I deserve. Because I know that I deserve a man who _loves me._ Who loves me so much that he was willing to give up not one, but _two_ crowns, just to keep me by his side. Who loves me so much that _refused_ to livewithout me. You've been watching him like a hawk all night long, dad. You can't tell me that you haven't seen the way he _looks_ at me."

Cameron- who had been listening in silence for so long now- finally spoke up. His eyes were sad, melancholic, as he said, "He's not the only guy who could ever look at you that way, Natalie."

"He's the only guy I _want_ to," I responded. "And even if, somehow, I managed to stop loving Loki- which I _can't-_ and I was somehow, _somehow_ able to fall in love with someone else, despite this _link,_ who could it _possibly_ be? Some random human from off the street? I couldn't drag a _norm_ into _my_ life, with no means to _protect_ themselves. It would haveto be one of the _Avengers;_ and, well… you'd think that, if one of _them_ was my soulmate, after living with them in the Tower for so many years, I would've _fallen_ for him already."

My father looked up to me. I lowered my voice to almost a whisper and said, as kindly as I could, "And, really… I guess you could say that I already _have._ "

He didn't respond. I waited in silence for a moment, but when it seemed that he had no words for me, I sighed and stood.

"I love Loki, dad," I told him. "I love him so much… so much that it _hurts._ He's the only thing keeping me together, the only thing that's kept me even _close_ to sane since… since what happened." I stroked the scars on my arm, once, with my fingernails. "And in six months' time, I'm going to marry him. And that's going to make him… part of the family." I tilted my head to the side. "I'd really appreciate it if you could accept him as such. But, if you can't… well, it really doesn't matter, anyway." I smiled weakly, painfully. "Because you can't choose your family."

He looked back at me for a very, very long time. Then, at last, he sighed and looked away. "I don't know, Natalie," he said, sounding far weaker than I had heard him in a very long while. "I guess… I just need time to think."

That made sense. I nodded slowly, serenely. "Take all the time you need," I answered him. "You know where to find me."

And then I turned, opened the door, and walked out, leaving it still open behind me.

* * *

"Heavy."

"I know."

Puck gently coaxed the light out of the glass sphere in front of him, pulling it around his fingers, letting it flow down his fingertips, curl around his wrist, and begin to climb up his forearms. "So what about your mom? She seem any cooler about the whole thing?"

I shrugged. Loki had despaired of me talking with Puck about such personal matters, but I hadn't been able to help myself. The half-breed was so _easy_ to talk to; and I'd needed _some_ form of release for the crazy insanity that had been bottling up inside of me. And he was the best person to talk to: stronger than a human, more casual than a Jotun, calm and relaxed and composed at all times, the perfect confidant. I didn't know why I still trusted him. I didn't know why I couldn't stop. But I had stopped worrying about it; he hadn't betrayed me yet. So maybe, just maybe, I trusted him so easily because he was _worthy_ of it.

Maybe.

"She never had a problem with it," I informed him. "She congratulated us and everything. Her only problem was the fact that we lied about it. Once we told the truth… she forgave us."

Puck nodded thoughtfully and began to pass the glowing light from hand to hand. He took a long, slow, deep breath and formed it into a long shape; that of a glowing, golden arrow. He set it down next to the others and began work on the next one; the magic that would be sent to the blacksmiths, to forge the arrows for the bow that we had given him. "So all is well with the family," he mused. "And your friends? How is Tiff?"

I scowled, but forced my face to smooth out after a moment. Gently stroking Hyde, who, in a rare moment of weakness, had been lonely enough to seek me out in the palace, and had gotten my attention by wrapping herself around my ankles. She now rested in my lap, where I periodically scratched the little white dots that flecked the back of her velvet black ears. "We don't talk much," I admitted. "When Loki lets me out, I usually only have time for a few phone calls and… well, she's doesn't tend to be the first person on my list."

Puck gave me a look that was a little too knowing for my taste. "Spies do tend to fear the truths that other spies bring out in themselves," he said sagely. I glared at him, but didn't respond, turning my eyes to the ground after a moment. Puck smiled. "And Benjamin?" he asked.

"Benny?" I looked back up, then shrugged. "He's all right. He's still trying to get used to the idea that his girlfriend was a spy; and that he was just supposed to be her 'cover'. Their relationship is… a little shaky, right now."

"A pity," Puck said, with an oddly intense look, a strange little frown. "They seemed so… right, for each other."

"People often seem that way."

His frown deepened. "It would seem so," he admitted slowly.

We were quiet for another long moment. I glanced to the arrows that Puck had been stacking steadily for a long time now. He was getting better. It was almost scary, how smart this kid was, and for some reason, it made me glow a little with pride. I was always proud of him, or happy for him, or crazy defensive of him.

He finished the rest of the arrows in silence, and we walked them to the blacksmith without another word to each other. It was a comfortable silence, naturally, occasionally broken by casual observations about this or that: the weather, the repairs on the city, a particularly nice axe blade in the blacksmith's workplace. Everywhere I went, even with the half-breed beside me, people would bow deeply, or even kneel (which made me very nervous; it was all I could do not to beg them to stop) and say things like 'long live the Shadowslayer'. I could hear whispers, excitement in the air about the royal wedding, about what was to come. Everything was being set up and the entire kingdom was readying itself for the celebration.

It was nerve-wracking as hell.

Puck monitored my reactions to things in silence, occasionally holding my cat when my arms got too tired to keep lugging her around. She would not follow us like Jekyll would; if we left her to her own devices, I wasn't sure we'd ever find her again. So we carted her around with us, letting her burrow closer to ourselves whenever the weather got too cold for her liking.

We did not return to the palace immediately. By some silent agreement, we found ourselves walking to the Mage's Spire; a place that had already greatly benefited from the Casket's return. We hadn't even needed to bring the Casket there; the mages themselves, with their full power returned to them, had destroyed the place in an hour, and rebuilt it, larger and better than ever, in less than a week. It was little more than a large silver shaft, stabbing up at the Jotun sky, reaching towards it. The silver looked molten, twisting about and writhing in on itself, a brilliant silver-white that shone against the ice, gleaming, tainted with the faintest hint of color at its tip and base. Closer up, it was like standing next to a skyscraper, wondering how anything could be so huge, how it could stand, how so many people could be inside it at any given time…

I sighed, quietly, to myself, a little smile hinting on my lips. It was so beautiful. This whole place, this planet… it could be so _beautiful…_

We returned to the palace without stepping inside. I had already been inside the Mage's Spire a number of times now; most of the time to collect Sigil and Avalon, who had grown rather tired of the palace and preferred to spend their time buried in their books. They always seemed rather affronted when we disturbed them, as though doing their duties was something far beneath them.

Though, I had to admit, the two had seemed rather absorbed in one of the problems of the crown; so I supposed that, even when they were not in the palace, they were doing what the crown mages were _meant_ to. Since those circles had been appearing, none seemed to have worked more feverishly at finding an answer on their origins than the Twins. They heartily disliked not knowing things.

"What do you suppose they are?"

Puck looked to me, curious. "I'm sorry, m'lady?"

"You know, those circles." I drew one in the air with my finger. "That… devastation. What do you suppose is causing them?"

"I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea, m'lady," Puck answered, though his voice sounded somewhat strained. I looked to him, confused, and he admitted, "Quite frankly… It is a frightening topic to think of. Not even in legend have I heard of a magic capable of making something… vanish."

I frowned, turning to look forwards again. "Yes, Loki tends to agree with that assessment," I said thoughtfully. "And _I_ certainly haven't seen anything like it. I've tried reading up on it and… well, _nothing._ "

"I suppose greater than you have tried," Puck said, not unkindly, but also not without a little, teasing edge. I gave him a sideways look.

"'Greater than me', huh?" I asked. "Greater than the Shadowslayer?"

"A human is a human, no matter its title," he said, and though I now was certain that he was spouting nonsense, I found myself rising to it. Or at least, pretending to.

"Oh, _really?"_ I asked, mock-offended. "And what is a half-breed then? Particularly one _without_ a title?"

"Well, I suppose I'd rather be _half_ a Jotun then not a Jotun at all," he replied, eyes dancing. "At the very least, _I_ can handle a little cold weather."

I scowled at him. Letting him think he won for a moment, I fell back, a few steps behind him, and scooped up a handful of snow. I couldn't reach up to his head and dump it on him, like I wanted to, but I managed to move ahead of him again and throw it up to his face. He blinked as the white powder exploded around him.

"Handle _that_ cold, Frostbite," I said primly, turning away. I felt rather smug in my success, knowing that, walking about among people as we were, Puck would not dare to strike back against me; if a half-breed was seen attacking the Shadowslayer, even in jest, it would not be taken well. But, just as I was patting myself on the back, Puck, with much simple ease, tucked some snow into the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled it up over my head.

"Quite gladly, m'lady," he said, stepping in front of me, and bowing so low that his nose almost brushed the ground.

I admitted defeat, sputtering out snow and trying to brush it out. Puck laughed at me, quietly, and eventually helped out, brushing a few flakes of it out of my hair.

We continued to talk all the way back to the palace; then I returned to my room, and he to his studies; which he no longer needed me for. I smiled to myself as I sat back in my little reading corner. I supposed that, after all this time… I really _did_ trust him. That, if he was going to betray me, going to _hurt_ me… he would have done it already.

This thought made me feel very content. So content, even, that after about an hour's worth of reading- a book filled with old legends from each of the realms, which I found myself fascinated by these days- I found myself curling up in the chair and falling asleep; my first little catnap in a long time in which I had no nightmares.

I woke up about two hours later with a crick in my neck, but I was in enough of a good mood that I didn't care too much. Setting my book aside, I checked on Loki in my head. He was out of the palace, speaking with the man who would be presiding over the wedding. I smiled to myself; he wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially not me, but Loki was genuinely excited about our upcoming marriage. Sure, he hated the actual 'planning' as much as I did; but he was taking care of things, even when I was passed out and not helping him at all.

Not that I'd been completely slacking; I'd done my fair share of things, too. The dress had been one of my biggest hurdles so far; but I'd finally chosen a seamstress- who had all but fainted at the idea that she would be helping out with the Shadowslayer's wedding, her excitement making me highly embarrassed, though of course I never showed it- and the Frost Giantess had begun her work on it. I'd also started asking around about decorations while Loki handled security. Basically, I was making the wedding pretty and beautiful while he made it secure; and made sure it would actually _happen._ I felt it was rather one-sided, that he was taking on too much for himself- and also that I was failing abysmally as a wedding designer, and that my taste in decoration wasn't going to match a lot of others'- but Loki had insisted on those duties that he had taken on himself, so I left him to it.

Still, he didn't always like doing all of this extra work, so I decided to pop by for a visit; maybe make things better. Help out a little bit. I pulled on a cloak- my sweater, which I rarely took out in Jotunheim, was still a bit damp from Puck's little trick with the snowball- and boots, sliding my knife into my belt and heading out of the palace, watched by the stoic sentries as I made my way out of the front doors.

It was in the courtyard that I saw her, just before I went out of the gates. She was a Jotun of high standing, and allowed in the palace quite frequently; I had seen her around, and I knew her by name. I knew quite a great deal about her, actually. I forced my hands deep into my pockets so that no one would see them clenching into fists; then remembered that the cloak would cover them, anyway. Still, I didn't pull them out.

Swallowing against the taste of sour bile that always flooded my mouth whenever I saw this particular giantess, I stepped forwards, trying to walk past her. It seemed, however, that she was waiting for me.

It was only as she started calling, "Lady Shadowslayer! Lady Shadowslayer!" And running towards me that I saw how frazzled she looked. Her long, pretty black hair had been pulled back with a leather cord, lying flat against her back in an attempt to make it look neat, but the style was frizzed and slightly unkempt. Her vivid red eyes were wide and wild with fright, and the cloak on her shoulders was so disheveled that I found myself straightening my own just to compensate.

She arrived next to me, looking down at me as every Giant would, and I looked up to her, towering a few feet above my head. Still, I could not view her as 'greater' than me by any stretch of the imagination. I simply couldn't.

"Hello, Fiely," I greeted Puck's former owner. My voice was tainted with the rusty tang of blood, and I tried to force myself to reign in my hostility a little bit. Slave ownership was not a new or novel concept on Jotunheim. It wasn't a new or novel concept anywhere; but here… here it was _accepted,_ no matter how it made me sick.

I had to remind myself that we were working on fixing it before I could listen to Fiely speak.

Her features looked conflicted- torn between fear and a seemingly righteous anger- and she moved in a skittish, jittering way, like an insect trapped in a glass jar, a roach forced to run through the light. She swallowed hard, and spoke in a nervous, quivery little voice. "I must speak with you, Lady Shadowslayer. It… it is urgent." She hesitated, then, "I believe."

I felt an eyebrow rise, and I hooked my thumb in my belt so that my hand could rest comfortably on my knife without drawing unwanted suspicion or attention to it. "I'm listening."

She was almost picking at her fingernails, looking left to right at all of the ears that could pick up on our conversation. She was so hunched over, so cowed, that she almost reached _my_ height. At last, I finally began to feel the first twinges of pity for her. Something was obviously wrong, obviously scaring her. I sighed quietly, bringing my voice down and removing the steel for my words as I said, as kindly as I could manage, "Why don't we talk it over inside? We'll have some more privacy there."

She nodded, seemingly grateful and relieved, though I noticed that she was still looking at me as though, at any moment, I might cry for her arrest. I led her, carefully and gently, into the palace, listening to her labored, nervous breathing. As we made our way towards one of the conference rooms- one of the smaller, more personal ones- I said, "May I ask what this is about?"

Her hands were shaking as her eyes darted to me. Steeling herself, again swallowing hard, she answered, "It… It is Puck, my lady."

I don't know what happened to me as she said those words, in that tone. For a long time, I had myself convinced that I actually blacked out for a number of seconds. But, if I'm honest, it wasn't anything like that; it was something more critical, more severe.

It was the separation of myself, into four distinct pieces. Four sides of my mind warred for control, each speaking with their own individual voices, their own unique words.

The first piece had heard her words, had heard the tone of them, knew full well that whatever she was going to say next would ruin it, would ruin everything. Knew full well that the illusion was about to be shattered, and one of the few good things that I still had left in this universe was going to be taken away from me. It knew that Puck was a liar, a traitor, or that he had some critical medical condition and was dying, or something else, something similar. But this first piece of me, this first piece of my fractured mind, did not care. It still had hope, shining silver-gold and beautifully delusional.

 _Oh, yes?_ It asked dreamily. _What about Puck?_

And this first piece of me was genuinely curious. It had no fear, no hate, no pain.

The second part of myself was something I hadn't expected. Something strong and fierce, a roaring animal with ferocious claws and fangs. A tiger, ready to pounce on this threat. It was instinctual, biological, deep in my bones and my blood and my very DNA. It was not so clueless, so fearless, so without hate. It was a tumble of hate and love, love for Puck, a ferocious _need_ to protect him.

 _Oh, yes?_ It sneered, echoing the other voice in words alone, but not in tone or manner. _What_ _ **about**_ _Puck?_

The third part of myself was _not_ unexpected. In fact, I'd known she would speak long before the giantess had even opened her mouth. I was surprised, in fact, that she had not already spoken long before. She giggled and laughed and questioned the woman eagerly, with a voracious, insatiable masochism, trying to feel hurt and pain. She spoke in the voice of my torturer, sickly-sweet, carrying with her the scent of sugar, lollipops and blood.

 _Oh, yes?_ She inquired eagerly, laughingly. The words chirped. _What_ _ **about**_ _Puck?_

But the last part of me asked separate words altogether. In fact, it didn't _ask_ anything at all. It was the tiny, quiet voice in the back of my head that had started speaking from the moment I met Puck, from the moment I had seen his face and learned his name and wanted to trust him. It was in the oily black, buried corners of my heart and soul, the silent whisper in the darkest of my sleepless nights. And it spoke, not to the giantess, but directly to me; to all of the other parts of myself in their collective.

 _Well,_ it said, so very quietly, this small whisper that was the loudest of all my unspoken thoughts. _You knew this would happen. You let him get close._

 _And you've no one but yourself to blame._

This moment echoed about in my head for a long time, these fractured parts of myself rattling around inside of my skull. But finally, I pulled them together enough to look back at the Giantess.

"Oh?" I asked, and I could put no emotion in the words. I could only rasp them out. "What about Puck?"

Fiely was oblivious to my inner struggle, my splitting personalities. She was still too nervous for herself to be paying much attention to what was happening to _me._ "He…" She coughed anxiously, clearing her throat and admitting, "I have reason to believe that he may be a traitor to the crown."


	10. Paper Crown

I stared into the fire that was crackling in my fireplace, occasionally spitting sparks into the air, which floated upwards. I watched the flames weave in and out of themselves, dancing and laughing and playing and kissing each other, ignorant to the destruction they were causing, to the corpse of the blackwood tree that they were burning the last dregs of life out of. It was a dark musing that kept my eyes on those shimmering flames, and yet, I could not turn my head away from them.

Fiely had confessed everything: how she had never met Puck a day in her life before he arrived, quite suddenly, in her house. Before he offered her a proposal. Before he claimed to know the whereabouts of her son, who had been missing for years, and gave her the proof that he was still alive. How she had gone along with his plan until the day that we, the Shadowslayers, took notice of him, and how Puck had given her the location of her son the day he had been freed. How he had spent all those months in willing chains and eager servitude.

She did not ask for much for this confession; only begged mercy for her own part in this treason. Half of me felt disinclined to give it; the half that was still holding on to the hate. (It hadn't helped things when she had tried to give back the gold that we had used to buy Puck off of her hands; it had only reminded me how casual she had been, how it was so 'normal' to pay money for a person, for a person's _life.)_ But the other half realized the truth; that, if there was any 'master' among Fiely and Puck, it certainly wasn't the giantess who had started to sob in front of me. I told her to keep the money (I couldn't have touched it anyway) and to go, warning her not to tell _anyone_ of what had happened. That we wanted to investigate further, and discovering Puck's plans- and any cohorts that he may have- would be impossible if he was warned in advance. She had blubbered out her thanks, and I had stayed with her until she had recovered enough to look mostly respectable as she left the palace. I joked and laughed a little with her, tried to make her feel better. For some reason, in those moments, I felt very much like the therapist I'd always wanted to be; still healing people, even now. Even when I was breaking.

The flames sent up more sparks, orange-glow fireflies that died out as they drifted downwards again only to be revitalized as they rejoined the fire once again. I'd asked Steprin to send a scout to keep an eye on Fiely, just for a few days; and Sile had taken up the call, tailing her silently, giving me a smile as he went.

Jekyll nosed my hand, and I stroked his head absently. Hyde, on my lap, batted him reflexively with sheathed claws.

It didn't have to be true. There was still the possibility that Fiely was lying, or that there was something else that was in play here. A slim chance, but a chance.

I didn't know how I feltabout the whole thing. Angry? Quite possibly. Hulk-style mad, even. Worried? Probably. Suspicious? Definitely. Hurt? Hell yes. Betrayed? Like you wouldn't believe.

Numb?

I only wished.

But above that, above all of these simple emotions, these one-word feelings, there was something else, something stronger. A desire, deep-rooted and desperate, a hopelessly insatiable _craving,_ for something… _good._ Something that was just… _right._ Something that had no lies and no deceit, something that would never betray me, something that was actually going _right_ in my life when everything else seemed wrong, wrong, _wrong._

Loki walked through the door.

When he had learned of Fiely's confession, watched it in my head, he'd almost blown off his duties for the rest of the day. Had almost confronted Puck immediately. He, too, was feeling the desperate betrayal, much more fiercely than we'd thought he would. Puck had wound his way into our lives, had gotten deep under our skin. My heart stuttered as Loki stalked across the room, eyes locked on me, paying attention to nothing else. I stood as he opened his arms and pulled me into them, wrapping them tightly around me and holding me against him. We stood there for a long moment, unmoving, and when Loki finally loosened his hold on me, I could only pull back about an inch. His serious gaze scanned me as he ran the backs of his fingers across my cheek and inquired, "Are you all right?"

"Are you?" I asked in return. The words came out in a croak.

Loki almost blew the question off; before he realized something very important. Something devastating. And through that devastation, the wreckage inside of both of us, he found himself smiling. Found himself laughing, just a little. "No," he admitted. It was a strangely weak, weary little noise. "No, I'm not."

And I smiled a bleeding smile in return, then rested my forehead against his chest.

We didn't speak again for the rest of that night. We only thought, over and over, of a single, powerful truth.

Loki and I were Avengers. We had survived powerful enemies: Loki had survived me, and I had survived him. Together, we had survived Fraye. We had both even, to a degree, survived the Avengers themselves. We survived so many things and, in the end, at least one of us was usually all right enough to pull us both through to the light at the end of the tunnel. And through the duties of the crown and the insanity of college, through family and normal life, we had somehow missed the one thing that we could not get through.

Through all of this, one half-breed had managed to destroy us both, at the same time. And we had no idea how.

* * *

Loki and I both took the next day off. He still attended to major issues, emergencies and all, but there hadn't been many of those- we hadn't had one of those circles in ages, either, which was good- and so, for now, the two of us remained together. We read books together, played chess, talked a bit about maybe going down to Earth and doing something there, or taking a walk into the Jotun city. But all of it was just that: talk. We didn't want to be seen at this moment; or to see anyone else, for that matter.

We talked about Puck a number of times before I finally closed the matter by calling the half-breed a few choice names and suggesting something certainly less-than-ladylike. Loki didn't bring the subject up again; mostly because neither of us could stand the taste of those words on my tongue when I was speaking about Puck. They didn't feel right. In fact, they felt awful. Like I was a horrible person or even suggesting such things about him.

So we stopped talking about him. Then we stopped talking altogether. I started to draw and Loki started some more King work. When I started to cry- without tears, as always- Loki didn't say anything. When it got worse, he sat down next to me and still didn't say anything. We took it slow that day, mostly for my sake, but also because we didn't know what else to do. It was hurting in the most unbearable, strangest way possible and we hated it. We didn't understand it and we _hated_ it. But neither of us dared to confront Puck on it; because what if Fiely had been right? What if he really was a traitor? Right now, we had the hope that Puck had a reasonable explanation. We couldn't lose that hope. We _couldn't._

But, the next day, we had no choice.

Getting ready the next morning was a grim affair. Loki and I were both entirely silent. I knew my duties, knew what I had to do, but I was far from looking forward to it.

Once I had finished getting dressed, brushing my teeth and combing back my hair, tying it behind my head, I gave Loki a swift, but somewhat unfeeling peck on the cheek, then left the room.

I kept my hands stuffed in my pockets as I searched out the palace for the half-breed apprentice. It wasn't hard to find him; he was precisely where I'd expected him to be, waiting in his room for one of us to retrieve him. We usually did, almost every morning, so that we could resume with his magic studies.

He opened the door when I knocked, smiling at me hugely, completely oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts in my mind. "Lady Frost!" he said brightly, with a swift half-bow and an enormous smile. A lump swelled up in my throat. He always called me that, so rarely called me 'Lady Shadowslayer', because he thought it caused me pain, to hear a reminder of my murderous act, a reminder of the woman I was forced to kill. It was just another one of those little things he did, one of those little things that made him my friend.

My heart gave an unfortunate little twist, and I swallowed hard against the lump that was still growing bigger in my throat. "Hey, Puck."

"The king is busy again, I take it," he said, cheerfully enough.

"Aye," I answered, though it was a lie. Loki _did_ have a number of things to take care of, throne-wise, but he could have very easily had Puck tag along today, if he wished. But that wasn't the plan.

I turned away. "Get your bow," I ordered. "We're leaving the city."

His eyebrow went up, but he obeyed swiftly, and somewhat eagerly. It wasn't altogether uncommon for us to leave the city when he was practicing a bit of the trickier, more unstable magic; the kind that might cause damage if he lost control of it.

We walked in silence. Puck seemed to sense that something was wrong, but he let me keep this silence all the way out of the palace gates, all the way through the city itself and all of the way out of its walls. He let me stay in the solemn quiet all the way into the vast, empty expanse of snow beyond, the snow between our city and the next one, the barren wasteland of white. But he kept up his chipper demeanor, turning to me as I finally halted and grinning, like an excited puppy. It was such an innocent smile.

Fraye had an innocent smile, too.

"So what are we doing today?" he asked, with clear and obvious excitement. Every so often, he _did_ become curious- or even eager- about his magical studies. He did _enjoy_ learning as the king's apprentice. Or so I had thought. But he must have been a far more accomplished mage than he had let on, to make me trust him so completely. To make sure that I was trusting him even now.

I looked deep into his ruby eyes, trying to find the guile there, trying to find the lies. I couldn't see them. I couldn't see anything but a simple desire for knowledge, for friendship.

Maybe that was why I couldn't stop myself from blurting out the words, "Why did you lie to us?"

Loki flinched. _I_ even flinched. But Puck just stared at me, startled and confused. "Excuse me?"

"I said, _Why did you lie to us?"_ My voice was a little more desperate now, as I stepped towards him. "Why, Puck? What are you _hiding_ from me?"

His eyes grew round. Partially in shock, yes, it was true. But there was a great deal of horror in his eyes as well, a look of pure _guilt._ He swallowed, hard, and said, "I don't know what you're talking about, m'lady-"

"Don't _m'lady_ me!" I shrieked, throwing out a hand, cutting him off. "I know! I know _everything!_ Fiely told me _everything!"_

I had meant to play it cool. To question him quietly, to interrogate him without any of my own emotion coming into play. But I wanted so desperately for there to be an explanation. Wanted so desperately for him to tell me that there was a reason, a _good_ reason, that he had done all these things. That he hadn't really kidnapped that giantess' son and that he was really a good kid and, I dunno, maybe falling into our lives was just a happy accident…

I wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. So I blurted it out. I told him everything that Fiely had said, every last word that she had told me, I let it all pour out of me in an unending string of desperation. And as I spoke, his eyes grew wider and as I finished at last, the horror was absolute on his face. He was utterly shaking, his fingers trembling.

"This… This can't be…" He breathed. There was true terror in his voice. "This… This _can't_ be, you weren't supposed to… you can't have… how can you have… you weren't supposed to find out!" he wailed.

My heart plunged to the tips of my toes.

"So it's true?" I rasped through numb lips.

"No!" He shouted. "No, Natalie, I wasn't… I mean, I was never going to…" His fingers started to shake faster. His entire body was quivering. "I never _hurt_ anyone!" he shouted at last, still trying to find his words, find his own explanation. "And I would _never_ mean to hurt you, Natalie, I wouldn't, but… you were never supposed to… we're all…" His eyes were welling up. I could see the tears shining inside of them, unshed but waiting, threatening to be. "We're all dead." He managed to whisper.

My own eyes widened a little. My hand immediately fell to my knife as my skin began to glow. "And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean, half-breed?" I snarled out his species as though it were a curse. Was I reduced to that? Had he reduced me into something that could hate someone else so mindlessly?

Puck's hands were shaking faster. Oddly fast, now, unnaturally so. His fingers were almost seeming to blur. "It's not a threat!" he pleaded, still panicked, running his hands through his hair and looking scared, so very, very scared… some instinctual part of me still begged me to go forwards and hold him, to comfort him, to banish the nightmares of the dark. I pushed it down and locked it away inside of me. It was a lie. It was a lie that Puck had instilled inside of my very heart and blood and bones.

"It's not a threat!" He repeated. "But you weren't… you weren't supposed to find out, not like this, you _can't_ have found out like this! And if you did… if you did, then…" his hands were shaking even faster. "Then we're all dead, Natalie, don't you see, I messed it all up, it's over now! It's over for all of us!" His entire body was shaking now, in that unnatural way, vibrating, so that his features became blurred and indistinct. Little hints of light began to dance around his skin, and little skitters of darkness. To look at it, to see it… I felt something in my gut, some terrible animal instinct that told me to run. Don't fight, don't attempt to hide, just run. Run as far as you can and never look back because _this…_ this was wrong. It was unnatural. It did not exist, not in my world or any other, not in the nature of the entire universe itself could it ever, _ever_ exist. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end as the air became dry, filled with static. It was as though a storm was brewing, sweeping in, but the skies were unchanged. It was only the air around me that was toxic, tugging at my skin and making me feel nauseous. I had to look away from him before I threw up.

"Puck…" I said, and for some reason, I was scared. It wasn't like when I was back in the chair with Fraye; that was another kind of terror altogether. A _lesser_ kind of terror. Fraye had never frightened me, not this badly, had never taught me fear of this kind. Fraye had only ever made me fear for my life, fear the pain that I would feel. This, looking at Puck… it made me fear for my existence. For the existence of all things. "What… what's happening to you?" I asked, my voice little less than a squeak.

Puck looked down at his hands. I looked up to him, briefly, then turned away as waves of nausea and vertigo swept over me. He was shaking faster now, so that it was not only his own features that were blurred, but the air around him as well. His voice sounded like a person speaking into a fan; metallic, robotic, yet shaky and indistinct.

"No," he pleaded. "No, please, not again… not now…"

And then he turned and ran.

I could not go after him. I had no desire to. I fell to one knee in the snow, barely holding myself upright, blinking spots out of my eyes as the world began to spin around in my vision. I peered up at the half-breed as he ran, as he kept running… but it was too much. I collapsed on all fours and heaved, throwing up into the snow. My stomach roiled and my head ached and there was no way to describe the pain inside of me; it wasn't a pinch or a stab, not burning or freezing, not blunt or sharp but just agonizing. And wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, on so many levels, a terrible thing in the very core of my being. I couldn't even scream. I could do nothing.

I could only stay, crouched there, as I heard the explosion.

When I say 'explosion', I don't mean the sound of crumbling buildings, or crackling flames. I don't mean the echoing boom that accompanied all such noises. In fact, I don't even mean that I _heard_ the thing. I _felt_ it. It was under my skin, forcing its way in my mouth and nose, a pressure in my ears and eyeballs, behind my temples, an implosion and explosion all at once, supernova and black hole, consuming each other. A sickening shockwave washed over me as I sat there, trembling and weak and suddenly very, very aware that there were powers in this universe, dangerous and disturbing powers, that were far greater than even I had ever known. But worse than that, I knew that there were powers even _beyond_ this universe (for this was too sickeningly wrong to belong to _ours_ ) that were much, _much_ worse.

I stayed there for a long time, helpless, frail, and weak. The non-explosion, non-implosion had sapped all of the strength from my body, left my bones brittle and my muscles too heavy for them to hold up. I collapsed, folding in on myself, a house of cards falling over and burying itself in the snow.

Time lost its meaning. I could have been lying there for seconds or decades, and I wouldn't have known the difference. But I laid there in the silence and the cold until my bones rebuilt, until the vibrating inside of me stopped, until my strength returned to me. I realized, only then, that my force field had flared; and it chilled me to recognize that, even with it, even with the thing that had once deemed me 'indestructible', I had still felt every second of that shockwave; and I hadn't even been involved in the central _blast._

I tried not to tremble as I stumbled forwards, step by weary, faltering step. I staggered towards Puck, who had managed to get a fair distance away from me before he had… well, whatever he had done.

Time still meant nothing. It felt like hours before I reached the half-breed, though it must have been mere minutes. He was pulling himself upright, looking groggy and weak and sick, but no longer shaking, no longer trembling.

It was only as he pulled himself up into a sitting position that I realized what had happened to the land around him. My heart froze in my chest, and the world turned to stone around me.

Ringing around Puck, with him as its epicenter, was a perfect, flawless circle. And inside of that circle, everything- from the snow and the ice on top of the surface to the stone about a foot underneath- had vanished.

The Human/Jotun half-breed stared up at me with the terrified eyes of a child, sitting amidst his circle of devastation.

* * *

"Humans," The White Specter sighed, very quietly, as she stared at the stars, watching over her brother's shoulder as he separated one dream from the rest. She watched the terror in the half-breed's eyes as he looked at his trembling hands. As he claimed that everyone was dead. "I do not understand why you believe them to be such wonderful creatures. They are all either inherently evil or foolish; and I'm not certain which is the more devastating to their surroundings." She straightened, white light spilling around her, cloaking her, hiding her every feature and defining trait from sight. "After all, she hardly needed to _lie_ to the boy."

The Gray Man smirked. "Oh, be fair, sister," he responded lightly. " _She_ was not aware of what her lies could and could not do."

The White Specter said nothing. The Gray Man chuckled and leaned back on his hands.

"Besides. Everything is according to plan. So why would _you_ worry?" his eyes gleamed. "She already defied our plans once before. Surely you do not wish for her to do so _again._ "

For a moment, eyes shone from the center of the flowing, ethereal light that formed the White Specter, eyes that were brighter, full of more light, than the rest of her. They flashed and gleamed with a terrible, terrible hate. But then they vanished, disappearing in an instant and a blink, and her voice was quite cool as she responded, "She defied nothing. Unexpected does not mean unplanned."

And then, without another word, she turned and breezed away. The Gray Man chuckled to himself.

"But you know you didn't plan for her to do as she's done, dear sister," he taunted, and though she was far out of earshot, he knew that she had heard. But she would not respond. She would say not a word.

A darkness grew beside the Gray Man, a shadow, sliding into place. He beamed at it. "Ah, brother! Here to tell me that I am wrong? That I should not taunt my sister so?"

The shadow did not answer. Growing, shifting, changing, until it emerged in the form of a cloaked man, it slid closer to the Gray Man.

"It happens so very little, dear brother," the Gray Man added musingly. "I believe every few millennia or so, I am allowed to gloat."

The dark, tattered shadow of a figure whispered. Its voice was as soft as death, ending with a slight edge, like the sound of steel being sharpened, before trailing off into oblivion. "The girl was _not_ unaccounted for."

The Gray Man threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, dear me, dear me oh _my,_ we have become so very _arrogant,_ have we not?"

The cloaked figure, the Black Whisper, did not answer him. The Gray Man laughed again. "Oh, I must admit, my family, you do disgust me so!" he cried jovially, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his grey eyes. "You detest the surprise she gave you and claim it does not exist. But I know you, and your hypocrisy." He winked at his brother. "I have seen the hate inside of you, dear brother, _dear_ sister. And I really must ask…" his eyes danced. "Where is the _fun_ in your lives, if the universe can no longer _surprise_ you?"

* * *

Sigil was of half a mind to dissect Puck. I was of half a mind to let him. If it weren't for the keening agony that went through me every time I even _thought_ about Puck dying, I probably would've locked the kid in a room with the twins and seen what happened.

The discovery that Puck was the one behind the recent appearances of these 'circles' had forced my hand. No matter how badly I wanted to listen to some sort of explanation, these things were a threat; and thus, so was Puck himself. So Loki had thrown him in a prison cell- one of the most secure ones we had- and informed the mages of this recent development.

The rest of the public, however, was kept in the dark. We announced that we had found the source of the threat, and that we were doing 'everything in our power to contain it', but we did not say _what,_ precisely its origin _was. That_ part, we kept to ourselves.

Still, it was driving Sigil and Avalon mad. They had both quickly developed a strong loathing for the half-breed, completely mystified at how he could have _possibly_ created such a powerful magic, how he could have _possibly_ known something that _they_ did not. There was a mage or two who suggested the theory that it was _because_ of his human nature that he was capable of such magic; but that, of course, immediately called for a ban on all _other_ half-breeds; and it was pointed out to these mages, in no uncertain terms, by their companions, that a certain _royal bloodline_ could very well include the introduction of half-breeds at some point in the future.

Even knowing that this topic was being discussed, I somehow couldn't even find it in me to blush, to feel embarrassed. Let them talk.

Puck, on the other hand… well, his reaction to his own imprisonment was, perhaps, the most curious of them all.

For the first hour or so, the boy babbled incessantly. Through his frenetic pacing and crazed strikes against the magically-reinforced ice walls, through his nearly incomprehensible blather, the same few phrases kept popping up: 'Everything I've worked for', 'One mistake', 'all my fault', and, 'It's all over.'

During this time, he was jumpy and skittish, and I couldn't get a word out of him. _No one_ could; they could only watch as he jumped at every sound, laughed when we inquired something, and gave a look so scarily detached that even I found myself backing away.

"Don't you get it?" He asked, after a third attempt at interrogation. "It doesn't matter anymore. I failed. And any second now… we're all gonna die."

He was left alone for a while following that. 'Any second now' turned into a few hours; and in that time, Puck seemed to regain his serenity (and also his sanity). After a while, the twitching stopped. The jittering movements ceased and his frightened, nervous pacing ground to a halt. It took a while, but eventually, he seemed to realize that the world hadn't ended. And so, instead of worrying, he fell into a curious silence, sitting in the middle of the floor like Loki used to do, keeping his eyes closed and his thoughts focused inwards, as though puzzling out why Ragnarok had not come following his supposedly world-shattering mistake.

But, by that point, I found that I couldn't speak to him. I couldn't even look at him. But still, even now… I was more disappointed than I was angry. More hurt than I was furious.

How had he tainted me this way?

Puck stopped answering questions; mine or Loki's or anyone else's. Not that I was anywhere near enough to hear them if he did. I relayed any questions I might have to a person who could ask them for me in my stead. But if Puck recognized that they _were_ mine, he still said nothing. Indeed, the queries seemed to be nothing more than a hindrance to the half-breed, who spent the rest of the- considerably long- day in absolute silence, still sitting in the middle of the floor, still thinking. The one time he _did_ speak, I was told, it was nothing more than a mutter, spoken to himself rather than anyone else. (He was, in fact, ignoring everyone in the room.) And all he said was this: "So she was lying. How many more times is _that_ going to happen?"

But as for what _that_ meant, I had no idea.

Loki and I spoke about the situation at length that night, but we came to no new conclusions; and really, what conclusion _could_ we come to? Puck was the one who had been creating those circles, in and outside of the palace. As far as we knew, no one had been hurt, and Puck didn't seem to have created them intentionally. He was in hold of a power that he could not control and we did not know what it was. Other than that, we were exhausted, and really, what else was there to talk about? What else could we say?

This pattern continued for three days. On the latter two, Loki sent me to the Tower, to spend time with the Avengers. Natasha kept me distracted by making me work on wedding plans. When that didn't work, she made me help her with hers. And that helped, a little.

But in the end, it couldn't be helped. In the end… I had to see him.

I had to talk to Puck.

Loki let me, if only because he wished for direct eyes on the half-breed as well. Getting everything second-hand from other people was driving us both a little crazy.

Guards accompanied me on either side as I walked down the long hall, past the prisons on either side. Some were occupied. Some were not. Some of the occupants watched me as I passed, and some seemed too beaten down to care about the new visitor.

It was a very different system from the prisons on Asgard. But one thing was the same; there _were_ places where one prison could remain completely and entirely alone, should their captor wish it. Places where the cell was far separate from even the sight of the other prisons.

Places like the cell that Puck was in now.

Down long hallways, past empty and filled cells, tucked away in a far, dark corner, an enormous black door greeted me, cut into the ice and stone. I could feel the shimmering power of the magic that protected this place, even if I could not directly _see_ it, but it gave me no comfort, no sense of security. Whatever Puck had done… whatever power he held… it would tear through these magical bindings like paper. There was nothing that could be done to contain him, nothing whatsoever.

I steeled myself, opening the door and walking inside. As I did, silver bars shot up from the ground, and down from the ceiling, shimmering magical binds that separated me from Puck, cut the room clean in half, so that, even inside of the cell with him, he could not touch me. I knew this was standard protocol when involving someone as powerful and important as myself or my soon-to-be husband, so I didn't mention it. I didn't even react.

I just looked at Puck, who was still seated, as I'd been told, on the floor.

His legs were folded and his hands were loose in his lap, his back completely, rigidly straight and his breathing slow and even. His eyes were closed, and his face was set into an expression of extreme patience. Seeing him like that, I was hit with a powerful sense of déjà vu; the resemblance to Loki in his old prison days was striking, regardless of his different features and height.

I blinked the image away and turned to the guards, who had followed me inside. "Leave us," I ordered.

They obeyed without question. I had wondered if they would become defensive, would protest that they did not wish to leave me alone with a supposedly dangerous criminal… but then, I was the Shadowslayer. If anyone would be safe here, it would obviously be me.

But I knew better. No one was safe around this boy. No one.

On hearing my voice, Puck's eyes flicked open. Vivid red and oh-so-curious, they bored into me with their blank, apathetic inquiry. "Greetings, Lady Frost."

His voice was cool and smooth, like velvet. My name in his voice made the similarities between himself and the Trickster more prevalent than ever. It sent me back in time, back to when I was just a Pizza Girl. Back to when I was whole.

But I wasn't that weak little child any more. And the moment passed quickly. I slouched against the wall. "So what's the story, kid?" I demanded.

He looked at me. For a very long time, he just… _looked_ at me. I couldn't see him trying to calculate the variables, couldn't see him _studying_ me. I couldn't see what was going on in his head, couldn't see past the fathomless depths of his eyes, the deep, indescribable emotion on his features. And I could hear nothing in his voice as he answered me, "A very long tale. One that is impossible to believe."

"Try me."

His lip twitched up at the corner, but otherwise his face remained as empty and unreadable as before. "Even for you, m'lady," he said, and suddenly he was Puck again, not Loki, not the prisoner who knew too much. He was the half-breed who had become my friend, and I was still the twisted, broken, Shadowslayer Child of Frost.

"After the shit I've seen?" I crossed my arm. "I'll believe anything, I guarantee it."

"Ah," he said, very quietly. "You'd believe it, perhaps, if you _wanted_ to believe it. But it is not my place to explain or elaborate on my true nature to you, my lady Frost. I am a mere messenger and guide; I cannot explain the intricate mysteries of the universe to you."

I looked at him; and now, it was _my_ turn to look apathetic. _My_ turn to be unreadable. I took a few, careful, slow steps towards him, crossing the room, until I was directly next to the bars that separated me from him. Crouching down next to him, gripping the silver magic so tightly that my knuckles turned white, I pressed my face to the bars and looked him directly in the ruby eyes.

"I think you'll be surprised at what you can explain," I said, a bleak, frozen whisper of a sound. "If I deemed it necessary to… _persuade_ you."

My hand slid down the bar it clung to, then drifted away, falling to the blade in my belt.

Puck did not seem threatened by the words, or my action. He did not seem frightened or hurt or angry or anything. The only emotion in his eyes now was pity.

"Oh, Natalie," he sighed. "The things you've seen and done… you don't know who you _are_ anymore, do you?" His head tilted to the side. "You're just… drifting." He leaned closer, moved so that his face was but a few inches from mine. "You have all the time in the world to rediscover yourself, though, don't you? All the time in your life. But you have to ask yourself: after everything you've seen, everything you've been through and everything you've _done…_ is one, _mortal_ lifetime going to be enough? Enough to become yourself again? Enough to discover who _you_ _**are**_ _?"_

I swallowed. Hard. I shouldn't have let it get to me; he was just spouting off words. He was a prisoner, locked in a cell, and he would say anything. He _could_ say anything.

"You don't know anything _about_ me, Puck," I growled, in a low voice, knowing it was a lie. He knew a great deal about me, as it happened. Because I'd _told_ him. "And you don't have the _right_ to tell me-"

"You see, that's where you're wrong," he said, quite agreeable in his correction of my facts. "I know _everything_ about you, Natalie. I know everything from the day you were born. I know what Loki did to your father and what he did to April, and how you always wished that you could be like her and then wished that you could die like her. How you still keep that pink bracelet in the little box under your bed to remind you of her, and how you would've named your kid after her, if you didn't think that it would destroy Loki. I know that, every so often, you lock yourself in your room, turn the music up as loud as it'll go, and just scream for the hell of it, that you did that even when you were younger, even when you didn't have anything to really scream _about._ I know what you were thinking for every second that Fraye had you, and I know that, when you first realized what she'd carved into your arm, you laughed. You laughed for a number of minutes before you started to cry. I know exactly what you were feeling when you first saw Loki, when he came back for you. And I know that you're not scared of dying. You're scared of leaving Loki behind."

Throughout this, I remained entirely dumbstruck. Many of these things he knew because I had told him, it was true. But the terrifying part, the part that chilled me to the bone, was that, with most of it, I _hadn't._ My stomach clenched. _No one_ could read my mind. _**No one.**_ Even Fraye had only been capable of it because Loki and I hadn't been in full agreement at all times; but now we were, now we were linked even at our core, and now… even now, somehow, Puck had gotten into my head, he'd cracked open my mind and he'd pulled out the dark and the painful thoughts and he was showing them off to me, waving them in front of my face.

A molten anger, the fiery kind that I hadn't felt in a while, the stuff that burned my gut and singed my hair and set my world aflame, started to blaze through me. I stood from my crouch, crying out, my force field bursting out from beneath my skin, and I drove it into the magical silver bars. It took a number of strikes- about four or five- but then they shattered, pieces of silver glass that chimed against the floor. I reached out, gripping Puck by the iron collar that had been clamped around his neck when he had been dragged here, and pulled him up an inch away from my face. Part of me still wanted to destroy my own traitorous hands for hurting the boy, but the other part of me refused to listen. It only held hate.

"Who the _hell_ are you, _half-breed_?!" I screeched. "Who the helldo you _**think you are?**_ "

He didn't seem frightened by my reaction. In fact, he seemed almost… amused. His small smile made me tempted to punch him in the mouth and ask the question again once he'd swallowed a few teeth, but I refrained.

"Only fate knows," He said, simply yet cryptically at the same time. "Only fate can ever know."

I looked at him, entirely incredulous. He hesitated, thinking over his own words, then rephrased, "Actually, I believe it would be more accurate to say… that only _Fates_ know."

I stared at him. My eyes bugged. And then I dropped him, pushing him away from myself with the movement. What else could I do? Even filled with as much anger as I was, I couldn't make myself strike him. I _couldn't._

"I can help you, Natalie," he said, very quietly. I didn't look at him. I had turned away, walked out of the broken bars and into my half of the cell that we now suddenly seemed to share. "I can _save_ you. I can give you the one thing that you want the most."

"And what's that?" I snarled.

He smiled sadly. "The chance to stay beside him forever. To _live_ forever." His head tilted to the side, his smile growing wider, but still more melancholic. "I'm offering you immortality, Natalie. If you're strong enough to take it."

I looked to him, warily. "And in return, I release you, correct?"

He chuckled, just lightly. "You and I both know that this prison wouldn't hold me for long if I was determined enough. I'm giving you this chance, because I _need_ to give it to you. To set things right."

I scowled at him. "And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He turned away. "You tell me." Carefully, he sat himself down on the floor again, crossing his legs and placing his loose hands back in his lap, closing his eyes. "And, I believe," he added, quietly, "That Fates shall tell you."

I looked at him for a long time. Just… watched him. But his body posture had closed, and his back was turned to me. There would be nothing else that I could get from him today. This cryptic nonsense was all I had; and it was absolutely nothing. Nothing but a hollow promise.

Except…

I turned as well, knocking on the door and being let out by the Jotun sentries that had led me in earlier. They led me out again now, though I moved far ahead of them, my steps fueled with far too much purpose and drive to keep up the slow, leisurely pace that I had set before. I stalked down the halls and moved as quickly as I could, leaving the guards behind at their posts and going to my room, retrieving my cloak and boots so that I could leave the palace.

I walked outside, into the cold and the dark of Jotunheim, stuffing Hyde- who was still fairly small, though getting larger and heavier by the day- into my sweater for warmth. She liked it there, so she did not protest. Then I kept walking, as quickly as I could, through the snow-coated world of Jotunheim, footsteps crunching as the world seemed to melt around me. Step by step, I made my way towards the Mage's Spire.

Once inside, I was escorted by a (somewhat nervous) giantess, who led me into the room where the Twins were working. They were buried deep into the few studies on half-breeds that had ever been conducted, and clearly coming up empty, for there were a few more chunks of wall missing than there were the last time that I had been there.

I sat in front of the table where they sat, greeted them both, unzipped my sweater a little so that my cat could pop her head out enough to breathe freely again, then said, "I need you to tell me absolutely everything that you know about the Fates."

Sigil and Avalon shared a long, weighted look. Sigil sighed, quietly. "A tale the half-breed told?" he guessed. At my curt nod, he sighed again. "It is an old legend, m'lady, told to children at night to help them sleep. Whatever he said to you, whatever he promised … it is not real. The Fates… the _Faden…_ They are… fables. Nothing more."

I gave him a hard look in return. "Fraye was also a legend," I reminded him darkly, holding out my arm and pulling up my sleeve. "Tell me that she wasn't real."

Avalon swallowed, her lips pursing like she'd tasted something sour. Giving me a look of haughty disapproval, she said, "Lady Frost, the half-breed is clearly trying to manipulate you. Whatever he-"

"I am not a _child,_ Avalon," I snarled at her. The words were so powerful that even they, arguably the most powerful mages of Jotunheim, recoiled from my words. "I know full well what Puck is _doing._ But I will _hear_ the legend and I will know _everything_ about what this _boy_ believes he can offer me." I leaned forwards, eyes gleaming. "Now. Tell me everything."

* * *

In truth, I knew quite a great deal about the Faden; or, as they were occasionally known, the Fates. (This title, in fact, was the inspiration behind the Greek myth of the three Fates, who held the threads of life in their hands). They were also intermittently referred to as the 'Fades', or the 'Sentinels of Time', and were said to be the most powerful creatures in the cosmos.

I'd read legends before. I'd been researching a few of the Jotun ones in my spare time, just for fun. So of course I knew of them. But still, it helped to get the story direct from one (or, in this case, two) who had heard it many times in their lives, had heard it since they were children.

The story, (or rather, a paraphrased, simplified version of the story), goes something like this:

Three men were seeking immortality. The first was a young man, who was desperate to prove his worth as a warrior, to do fabulous deeds and marvelous acts of bravery. He believed that the best way to do this would be to become immortal, to live forever (and not just in the sense of immortality that we humans believed that Asgardians or Jotuns had. _True_ immortality; where a person would live for their _own_ definition of forever).

The second man was a warrior already; a legend all of his own, who had done many heroic acts and saved countless lives. He was a hero of his world and country, and believed immortality a just reward for his acts. Believed that he could continue to protect his people and live his life of heroism for the rest of time itself.

The third man was an old, somewhat frail king. Growing sickly, but much beloved by his people, they urged him to seek this chance at living forever, at seizing true immortality, and sent him on the journey to achieve it. On the request of his people, he left a trusted advisor in his stead, then set out in the hope that he could, perhaps, protect his world for a while longer. And, if he was not the best king for his people, then so be it.

The three men, seeing that each of the others were seeking immortality themselves, all set out together, hoping for safety in numbers. It was a long, treacherous journey to the world of the Faden, and a far more dangerous one across the world itself, who's terrain had been known to swallow men whole, infect them with vile plagues, or burn them into ash. It was a hostile place, inhabitable to any but the Fades.

The journey itself was nigh impossible; and the men only survived with the help of their guide, for it is said that only one who has seen the land of the Faden before and lived can ever lead others to this place; and only a man who has seen the Fades themselves.

At last, the three men, having fought many battles against both terrain and creature in their travels, now arrived at the court of the Faden. They were three in number: The Black (Whisper), the White (Specter), and the Gray (Man). The Black and the White, it was said, could see the absolutes of the universe; what would be, what had been, what must be for the rest of time. Only the Gray could see what lay in between, and only he avoided speaking in absolutes; if he spoke at all.

The White Specter stood forwards first, looking over the men in silence. Boldly, the warrior stepped forwards. He boasted of his deeds to the Fates, told them of all he had done and accomplished, and what more he could accomplish if the great prize of immortality were granted to him. Once he had finished making his case, the White Specter turned to her brothers, but did not consult with them. Rather, she turned back to the warrior and said, "You speak truly. Your deeds are already done. And from this day forth there will be no more marvelous deeds from you. Granting you immortality would suit time ill, for the good of your life has already been lived."

The warrior was struck dumb with his shock. The White Specter stepped forwards. "Granting you the rest of your life would also suit this universe ill."

And without another word, she destroyed the man with a burst of brilliant light.

The second man, the would-be warrior, was far more cautious. As the Black Whisper stepped forward to hear his case, he came forwards, with much humility, and claimed that he would do everything within his power to become a great hero; to save worlds and lives, to serve the universe that the Fates protected.

The Black Whisper regarded him for a long moment, but did not turn to his brother and sister. Instead, he told the man, "You are correct. You would save many lives. An entire world would owe its existence to you, if you were to leave this place, as an immortal or otherwise. But because this world lives, three others would die."

Shadows and darkness swallowed the man whole, and he, too, was destroyed.

At last, the Old King, who had seen much death in his life, and was far too immune to it to care if he saw it again, even in this manner, stepped forward. The Gray Man approached him, and listened to the man as he spoke his case. The King told him of his people, of how he wished to protect them, to keep them safe from danger and war and plague. If he was immortal, he claimed, he could serve them forever.

The Gray Man smiled at him.

"You are, indeed, a great king," he said. "And you would help many thousands of lives. You would serve your people well. And, if you were to perish now, then the King who would rule after you will lead them to ruin; and your world will fall into oblivion." He sighed, a sigh of a universe. "I wish I could allow you to live. I wish I could allow you to remain king: but with your world's end, more worlds are lead to survival and prosperity." He turned away. "I am sorry."

He was the only of the Faden to offer an apology, to offer condolences. His brother and sister stepped forward; and in a cascade of light and dark, the Old King was also destroyed. The guide who had lead them, the only survivor, bowed to each and turned away, to lead others at another day, and to tell the stories of those who journeyed here, until the end of his (increasingly mortal) life.

And the Gray Man turned away to watch the stars, and to watch the lives of heroes who would not suffer these same, grim Fates.

"Well," Tony said, after I finished telling the gathered Avengers this story. "They seem nice."

Thor missed Stark's sarcasm. In fairness, it was hidden well. "That is not the word I would use for them, Man of Iron," he said, forebodingly. Looking to me, he added, "You would be wise to never seek these… 'Faden' out, Lady Frost."

I kept my back to the wall, leaning against it and tapping my fingers on it as I kept my eyes on the ground. "I'm not planning on it anytime soon," I said, "But you have to admit, the idea itself…"

"That _any_ creature could grant immortality…" Loki said, very quietly, his eyes on me. He ignored the other Avengers' eyes on _him_ as he added, "One must wonder if this is the _only_ prospect." His eyebrows furrowed. "And to have one who claims to have knowledge of such things fall directly into our lives…" He frowned, suspicion appearing on his face. "The mortal phrase 'too good to be true' springs to mind."

" _Good?"_ Clint asked. "What _part_ of that was _good?_ Everybody _died_ at the end! It's like one of those sucky stories that they make you read in eighth grade because it's a 'classic'!"

I snorted, having been through said eighth grade and read said classics. "C'mon, Clint," I said, putting a teasing edge to my voice. "You can't say immortality isn't a pretty compelling motivator. Worth a few risks, eh?" I winked.

Natasha, as usual, read between the lines. Leaning back in her seat and keeping cool, neutral eyes on me, she added, "And if you _were_ sentenced to die, then you were not meant for this universe, anyway. Your life would've been a bane, a threat to the lives that you are trying to protect." Her eyes, which hardened into diamonds, did not leave me as she added, "It would merely be the removal of one more monster in the universe."

I looked away and didn't respond. I heard a few people swallowing and felt Loki take my hand.

"Well that's some bullshit right there," Tony said, flopping down into a seat. "I mean, who're _these_ idiots to decide who's 'right' and who's 'wrong' for the universe?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "The Sentinels of Time," I replied. "It's said that they can see through time itself: all that was and is, all that could be and never shall. Rumor has it that they can change the very fabric of reality itself; and they would, if it suited them. If it saved enough lives on enough worlds." I shook my head. "The universe is nigh infinite. The nine realms are, in the end, only nine. There are thousands of thousands, millions of millions, _billions of billions_ of worlds out there. Many of them inhabited." I shook my head. "I would not say that the existence of such beings is entirely impossible. And I won't say that we can rule out the idea that Puck is telling the truth."

Tony snorted. "Oh, really?" He asked. "All the kid's done is _lie_ to you, Nat. You'd think you'd get the picture by now."

Loki's eyes went to Clint. "Barton?"

The Hawk's eyes had been on the ground, his stare oddly intense. As Loki said his name, he looked up, startled out of his reverie. Loki lifted an eyebrow, a gesture that somehow managed to say, _if there is something on your mind, speak it._

The archer contemplated for a long moment. And then he sighed, very, very deeply. "All right. All right, I give. I can never rule out the idea that someone's lying to me; or that they're capable of pulling it off, no matter how good I get at telling the difference. But I met that kid. He's damn good with a bow and it's easy to tell that he could be dangerous if he wanted to. That much isn't in doubt." He sighed and shook his head. "But there is absolutely _nothing_ in my gut that says he's a liar. Everything about him _screams_ honesty; and the stuff that doesn't… well, let's just say that, if he _was_ lying, I don't think he was doing it to _hurt_ anyone." He shrugged. "Just a personal observation."

Loki and I exchanged looks. It was an observation that we ourselves had made a number of times as well. But we were far too cautious to listen to our own instincts in that matter; after all, Puck had already interfered with them once.

Natasha, sitting beside Clint, was clearly thinking very intently as well, now that her secret fiancé had spoken. I twisted the ring about on my finger as we all considered the Hawk's words. "That being mentioned," she said quietly, after a long silence, "There is a great deal about Puck that does not make sense…"

She trailed off, her eyes flashing as she worked through details in her head. We all shut up and let her think; we'd found, over the years, that it was best to just let her do that, rather than to try interrupting her. Loki looked to Clint as I kept studying the Widow. "Even if the half-breed was telling the truth, or even if there _was_ an explanation… we still cannot trust him. He is claiming to have all of the power of the Faden themselves, and-"

"Well, what if he _is_ one of them?" Stark asked with a shrug. "Maybe he's here because he knows that you won't seek the Fades out. Maybe Nat becoming immortal would be the best thing for the universe, and he's here to give her that."

I shook my head, quickly. "I don't think so. The Faden don't seem the type to ask nicely. If they wanted to make me immortal that badly, they would've just _done_ it, no questions asked."

"What if they did?" Bruce speculated. As a number of eyes turned to him, he added, "It's possible. How would you know?"

"You'd know," Thor, Loki and I said simultaneously, in tones that made it very clear just how obvious a transition between mortal and immortal would be. Thor had gone through that transition himself very long ago; he, above everyone, knew this fact first-hand.

"Can I speak with him?"

The room fell silent. I looked to Natasha, whose eyes were still on the floor and, as she registered the sudden hush in the room, she blinked, then turned those eyes to me. "Puck," she clarified. "I'd like to speak with him."

A strange little tightness gripped my chest. "Speak with him?" I asked. "Or…" my tone darkened, and I did finger quotes. " _Speak_ with him?"

She smirked very lightly. "I just want to talk, Natalie."

I nodded- an indication of understanding rather than agreement- and asked, "Why?"

She half-shrugged, a simple, mild gesture. But otherwise, she did not respond.

Loki and I exchanged glances once again before Loki sighed. I looked back to the spy and said, "Well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't hoped you would want to. If anyone can get something out of him…" I trailed off, gesturing to the spy, and using that gesture to complete my sentence for me. She nodded once, silently, and stood.

"Now, then?"

I stood, too. "Good a time as any."

The other Avengers looked at us, a bit unnerved by our sudden change of subject and manner, but Loki and Clint both remained seated and silent. Clint even took a sip of coffee.

Leaving the boys behind, the two of us left the room and headed straight for the portal to Jotunheim. I looked to Natasha, about to thank her for this… but for some reason, the look on her face made me refrain. Besides, what was there to say, really?

The two of us crossed into Jotunheim.

* * *

"Hello, Agent Romanoff."

The spider watched the half-breed. The half-breed watched the spider. And carefully, the spider created her silent web of lies and perched upon their edge, crouching down before the silver bars and looking their prisoner in the eye.

"Hello, Puck."

Softly, surely, and oh-so-carefully, the half-breed smirked. "I thought you might-"

"Who was your mentor?" Natasha interrupted him. Puck blinked, as though startled by the question. He tilted his head to the side and did not respond, keeping his mouth shut as he regarded the spy, as though seeing her in a new light.

Natasha asked no more questions. Puck gave no answers. And for a long time, the two merely watched each other again.

Then, quietly, he asked, "I'm sorry?"

She leaned forwards, her eyes like steel. "Who was your mentor?" She asked, speaking carefully, all but over pronouncing each word. Articulating perfectly, she added, "Who taught you archery?"

It was the last word that made him smile, that seemed to make all of the pieces click in his head. He chuckled, very quietly, and shook his head. "So that's it," he whispered. "That is how you discover me. By seeing the man who taught me." He laughed again, so very softly, his smile growing. "You've always been a very incredible agent, Natasha Romanoff."

Her eyes narrowed on the prisoner. Carefully, she stood again, out of her crouch, and took a step back. Folding her arms, she repeated, "Who was your mentor?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why ask questions that you already know the answer to?"

"Because it isn't possible," Natasha answered curtly. Puck laughed again, shaking his head back and forth one more time.

"Oh, anything is possible, Widow. And if you want to know how, then just ask yourself this." His eyes danced. "You see my mentor in me. But who _else_ do you see in me?" He stood, moving towards the spy, close to the bars, wrapping his blue hands around them. "Whose actions do I emulate? Who am I most similar to, in your eyes?"

His eyes continued to shine and sparkle and dance, his smirk growing with every second that Natasha studied him. And then, suddenly, it seemed to click. She turned away, as though hiding her features, so that he wouldn't see her shock. But she wasn't hiding. She was _thinking._

"And there it is," he said, quietly. "There you have it. You know who I am. Now all you have to do is ask. Ask the one thing that will confirm it for you. Go on. I'll answer."

She turned back to him. There could be no telling what was in her thoughts, not from her expression or her body language. Everything about her was emotionless and blank, an empty slate, but Puck knew. He knew that she had discovered him, had found him out.

She swallowed and, holding her chin a little higher, she demanded, "Whose orders do you work under?"

He almost grinned this time, a wicked smile, as he released the bars and clapped his hands together a few times. "Bravo, Agent Romanoff," he said quietly. "Bravo indeed." He took a step back. "I always knew it would be you. That _you_ were the one who…" he shook his head. "Well, it doesn't matter." He took the bars again, pressing his face up in between them, red eyes glittering as they locked on the spy. "I follow the commands of Natalie Laufeyson."

Natasha swallowed. Hard. She clasped her hands behind her back to disguise the fact that they were trembling. Puck's lip twitched up as he added, "Before she became Natalie Frost."

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed. "She never-"

"Not to you," Puck answered, cutting her off and speaking in words of smooth velvet. "But she was always that to me."

Natasha pressed her fingers against her forehead, directly above her right eye, trying to quell the headache that had started to form. Her interrogator's manner had dropped now. She stood before the half-breed as a more genuine version of herself, and as she gave up on trying to determine what his words meant, she sighed and leaned against the wall behind her. She slid down it until she was sitting on the floor, her eyes forward, never leaving Puck.

The man kept smiling at her, kept chuckling quietly, as he, too, sat down, directly on the other side of the bars. "It's fascinating, Agent Romanoff, it truly is," he told her quietly. She ran her hands down her face as he went on, "All of these people I am surrounded by… they have all lived with magic for most of their lives. I am visited daily by the most powerful mages of Jotunheim, including the _King_ himself." He said the word 'king' almost mockingly, with the barest trace of a snicker. The title clearly did not mean as much to him as it may have meant to others; but then, Natasha now knew why. Even if no one else did. Even if she was certain that no one else ever _could._ "Even Natalie herself is very well acquainted with magic; skilled enough in it to teach others." His head tilted an inch to the left. "But in the end, it was you. It was a _human,_ a _mortal,_ a person who knew _nothing_ of magic…who realized the truth. And not one of the scientists- Banner or Stark or some of those they call 'geniuses'- but you. An agent, who recognized the person over the problem." He laughed, shaking his head one more time. "It's fascinating, if you think about it."

Natasha's cool, steely eyes remained, unblinking, on him. She folded her hands. "Natalie is human, if you have forgotten," she pointed out, very quietly.

The half-breed's smirk became wry and twisted, a crooked smile that touched not only his features, but his bitter eyes as well. "Natalie Frost has not been human in a very long time, Agent Romanoff," he said quietly. "You of all people should recognize that."

"And yet," she replied coolly, "Somehow, I still am?" Her eyes gleamed, a dangerous little sheen. The corner of Puck's lip went up again.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," the half-breed said, as though in either case, it couldn't possibly matter less. "But regardless of what you are or are not… you were never the prisoner of the dark. Not in the way that she was."

The spy did not respond. Seeming, at last, wearied, Puck leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and sighing an ancient sigh. "Fraye placed a darkness inside of her… a darkness that even I could not have anticipated…" his eyes flicked open, looking back to Natasha once more. "You are aware of what she may do to herself, if this is allowed to continue?"

Natasha didn't answer.

"You know what she may end up doing?"

She closed her eyes and looked away. But in the same movement, she nodded. Of course she knew.

Puck sighed, so very deeply. "Then you know why I have to do this for her. Why I have to help her become this." His eyes became pleading. "I can help her, Natasha. I can make her immortal. For all of our sakes."

"She has enough power already," Natasha said, very quietly. "She doesn't need something more that she can… _lash out_ with when she loses her mind."

"It isn't _about_ power," Puck responded, leaning forwards just a little. "It's about… knowing. It's about knowing that she has all the time in the world to put it behind her. About knowing that she's never going to do that to the person she loves again. About knowing… that she did the right thing."

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed as she looked up once more. "The right thing?" She asked. Puck nodded fiercely.

"There can be no _doubt_ of it," Puck promised. "Not after this. Not after what she will see. The Faden…" he paused, then looked away. "I know what they are capable of. What they can show her." He couldn't look to Natasha. His gaze stayed, instead, on the wall. His voice cracked occasionally, though infrequently. "Please let me save her. It's… it's what I've been taught to do… what I've been _trained_ to do… what I've been told that I'm _destined_ to do for my whole life." His eyes returned to her at last. "I… I _can_ do this, Natasha. I swear that I can make her safe, make her whole again. I can save them _both._ " The smirk, the smile, was gone. In its place was a quiet desperation. Natasha watched him with hard, unyielding eyes as she thought over his words, as she studied his pleading, undeniably sincere features.

At last, she sighed, very, very deeply. "You'd best be right, boy," she said dangerously. "Because if you are not-"

"There is a great deal at stake here for me, personally, as you can imagine," Puck cut in with a dangerous reminder. Natasha's lip twitched up.

"I suppose that's true," She admitted. And then she stood, turning to the door.

"So you will… what?" She asked, just before she left. "Give Natalie this immortality yourself?"

He shook his head. "I am only a guide," he said quietly. "A guide to the Faden. To the answers she needs." As Natasha hesitated and turned back to him, he added, "It would be a long journey. Far away from Earth or the other realms." His voice dropped an octave as he said, very significantly, "It will give her a long time away from those people whom she could hurt, on one of her… 'bad days'." He sat back again, back against the wall, but kept his unblinking eyes on the Black Widow. "And a very long time to think over her own abilities to heal."

Natasha regarded him coolly. And then she nodded. "Then, perhaps," She said quietly. "Such a journey is precisely what she needs."

And then she turned to leave again. Puck's voice drifted to her ears.

"You can't tell her, Natasha," he said quietly. "You can't tell her any of it. She isn't meant to know."

For a second, she hesitated in front of the door. Then, speaking over her shoulder, she replied in a voice as dark as night, "She won't."

And then she pushed open the doors and walked out.

* * *

"Well?"

Natasha carefully closed the door behind her. Her eyes were serious, and her face was very pale, paler than I had ever seen it. However, as she walked up to me, as I straightened and walked up to her in return, her face was even, her movements certain. She radiated confidence and conviction as she told me, "He was telling the truth."

Confusion began to prickle at my mind. Well that was all well and good, but telling the truth about _what?_

When she didn't elaborate, walking down the hall away from me, I followed her. "And? What did he say?"

"Enough," she answered. "He's dangerous, maybe, but not to you, and not to Loki." She looked at me, her gaze sliding sideways so that she could watch me from the corner of her vision. Her eyes roamed up and down my entirety, looking me over once, swiftly. And then she was looking forward again. "He called himself a 'guide'. He says he can take you to the Faden."

"And you believe him," I double-checked.

"I do."

"Why?"

She didn't answer. In fact, she fell completely silent. It started to worry me, a suspicion at the edge of my consciousness, and a niggling fear made me wonder if, perhaps, the same uncontrollable emotions that tied me to Puck had been placed into Natasha's mind as well; if he had somehow managed to manipulate her emotions as he had done to mine and Loki's. But that cell could neutralize most magic…

I brushed the thought aside. Even if he had… I didn't see the signs of it on her face, didn't see the desperate need to protect Puck that I had, didn't see any of the similarities between her worry and mine. Her face was hard-edged and her eyes were sharp, stabbing.

We were almost back to the portal when she stopped. She turned to me, facing me entirely, her face set in determination. "Do you trust me, Natalie?"

I blinked. "Of course I-"

"No, Natalie, _no,_ " She shook her head, making her brilliant red curls gently brush against her cheekbones. Stepping forwards, she took my shoulders and forced my eyes to hers. "Do you _trust me?_ With your life, with your friends' lives, with _Loki's_ life?"

The question didn't terrify me as much as it probably should have. If anyone else had asked me that, or if someone had asked me before I'd met the Avengers, I probably would've been very, very frightened. My life was one thing. My friends' lives were another. And Loki's life…

But, hearing that question from _her,_ hearing it _now,_ after all these years of always having to know who I would trust and who I wouldn't, who I would be forced to trust with what and why… I didn't even have to blink before I answered. "Always."

This seemed to convince her. She didn't react, but I knew that she believed me, because she said, "Then trust me now. Puck is on your side. If he says he's here to help, he is. If he says he will take you to the Faden, he will." Her hands gripped my shoulders just a little tighter. "I think he's playing a dangerous game, but if it works… if it works…"

And then her fingers loosened their grip. Her hands fell, completely slack, to her sides. She took a deep breath through her nose, letting it out in a sigh from her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment. And then they opened again, and she said, "Trust him, Natalie. That's all that I can tell you."

I looked at her, gauging her for a long while. When, at last, her eyes seemed to show the faintest glimmer of desperation, I nodded once. "Then that's all I needed to hear," I replied, firmly.

If she was relieved, she did not show it. Instead, she nodded curtly. Stepping into the portal, she said, "I'll tell Loki to come back, shall I?"

"Yeah," I answered, but it was too late. She was gone.

* * *

"So either Natasha is compromised," I said, "Or we can trust Puck." I pulled the band out of my hair and ran my fingers through it, letting it fall in silky waves around my head. After many months of shampoo and conditioner, it was finally getting over its harsh treatment for those four months. I can't say it wasn't a relief. It was like I was finally getting a little healthier, piece by piece. "And I have to say, I'm inclined to believe the latter."

"As am I," Loki replied thoughtfully, sitting on the large chair in the corner of the room. I fell back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

"That doesn't explain how he did that circle thing," I noted. "Or why we trusted him so easily."

"Or a great number of other things," Loki admitted. "But, apparently, it does open up certain… opportunities."

I realized that his eyes were on me. That he was staring at me so intently that, even without him in my head, I felt his stare burning into me. I sat upright, knowing precisely what he was thinking.

"If the Faden are real," I voiced the words for him, "Then we may have a way out. A way to make me immortal."

He didn't respond. But his eyes didn't leave, either. I thought, perhaps, that his gaze might be wistful, thoughtful… but the intensity of them actually unnerved me. Immortality, at least for me, was something that he wanted; and wanted _desperately._ The look in his eyes was almost… _hungry._

I stood, feeling my own eyes soften as I crossed the room, walking over to him and seating myself on the armrest of his chair. Leaning against him- a little uncomfortably, but it wasn't as though I currently cared- I said, "Loki?"

He didn't respond. I put my hand on his chest, curling up next to him, tucking my head against his shoulder and neck. Looking forwards, away from him, I said, "If I wasn't mortal, would you still want to marry me?"

The question startled him out of his reverie. Looking to me (and seeing only the top of my head, due to my current position), he inquired, "Why would you ask me that, Frost?"

I curled up, a little tighter. It made it hard to keep my balance on the armrest, but I managed it. "Why wouldn't I?" I asked in turn. My stomach twisted a little. "You mostly asked just to make a statement. We're moving up the wedding because you don't want to waste any of the time that we have." My hand, reflexively, gripped the green cloak that was wrapped around his shoulders. "But what if we had more? What if we had all the time in the world? What if I wasn't just going to be around for a few years, what if I'd be by your side for a real version of forever?" I looked up at him. "What then? Would that be… what you _wanted?"_ I looked away again. "You can handle being married to a human for a little while- sixty or seventy years- but what happens when I'm old and boring and everyone… everyone's been laughing at you and disapproving of you and… and then if I die, maybe you'd get over me after a few hundred years, maybe it wouldn't be so bad anymore, and maybe you could find someone else… but that wouldn't happen if I became immortal, if the Fades were real. You'd lose out on that." He hadn't said a word, and my hands began to shake. "Would you be okay with that? Not… not even having a _chance?_ "

At last, after a long moment of complete silence, I looked up to Loki. The look on his face was momentarily unfathomable. He was staring at me, outright _staring,_ and as I turned to him, he carefully moved me upright, pushed me off of him. I sat up, letting him go, and he stood. He moved forwards a few steps before halting.

"I can't…" he stuttered. "I mean… I couldn't…" he turned to the right and started pacing, back and forth, in front of me, muttering under his breath. He shot a look in my direction, and though it was clear that he had only meant to steal a brief glance, his eyes remained locked on me, and he stopped moving. "By all the nine realms and beyond, Natalie Frost," he said, with great and heavy exasperation. "You are the single _densest_ human being that I have _ever_ met."

My face understood before my brain did, because I started to blush, bright pink spreading across my cheeks. I looked away. "I just…"

" _What,_ Frost?" he asked, cutting me off. "You _what?_ You thought it was, perhaps, a viable option? That I ever even… that I even _considered it,_ even on a _subconscious_ level?" he moved closer to me, dropping to a half-kneel, half-crouch in front of me, trying to hold my gaze as I kept looking away. "Do you honestly _believe_ that of me?" he demanded, a little too harshly. It was only then that I realized that I'd hurt him. That this question had… _injured_ him. Wounded his pride.

"I don't know _what_ to believe!" I replied, allowing a little of my desperation to leak into my voice. It quivered a touch as I reached out… then pulled my hands back again, clasping them together, tightly, in front of me. "I really don't _know,_ Loki, because… because I'm _happy_ with you and… and I don't know, I just can't see how you can be happy with _me!"_ I shook my head. "Because my life doesn't work like that! I can't be… can't be _happy,_ neither of us can, you know that!"

"What I _know,_ Frost," he said, taking my chin in his hands, forcing my face to his and looking at me sternly. "Is that _you_ would not wish to love a man who only lived for a few months before withering away and dying before your eyes. So you _must_ know that I did not _either._ " He looked away. "But life often gives us things that we do not wish. And I fell in love with you." His eyes were suddenly very frightening as he turned back and vowed, "And I would do _anything_ to keep from seeing that. To keep you with me for a _lifetime."_ His grip on my chin tightened. "Is that quite understood?"

I nodded, still somewhat sullen and morose. Seeing this, his features softened, and he leaned forwards, leaned in close. His cheek brushed against mine as, in a much gentler voice, he asked, "Do you wish for me to ask you to marry me again?"

I rolled my eyes, and, in spite of myself, I felt my grim mood lightening a little. "You never asked in the first place," I muttered with a false pout.

"Hmm…" he seemed to think that over. It was true: Loki had never so much as said the words, when asking me to marry him. He'd just sort of given me a look and let me into his head. "A fair point." He retreated, leaning back again, standing up from his crouch. "Is that why you continue doubting me, Frost?" he asked. His voice had one-third of an air of solemnity, and two-thirds of an aura of mockery as he asked, "Am I not 'romantic' enough for you?"

My eyes went up to the ceiling again. "Oh, no, it's every girl's dream for their boyfriend to propose _before_ their first date, solely for political reasons."

"Hmm," he said again. He didn't respond for a long moment, but returned to his seat instead. I leaned further away on the armrest so that he could sit down again and curled up next to him once he was seated. After a long moment of silence, I smiled and admitted, "You're plenty romantic, Loki. For you, anyway. And… well, 'you' is what I want." I shrugged. It was a difficult feat in my position.

He kissed the top of my head. But still, he said nothing. His hand found mine, two of his fingers wrapping around the ring on mine, toying with it carefully.

"There is no one else," he said. I blinked, but didn't turn to look at him. "There could be no one else, Natalie Frost. Don't think so little of me as to believe that I… that I can even _think_ of forgetting you." His arm tightened around me. "Mortal or immortal, Frost. I want you there." He twisted the ring another time, turning it round and round on my finger. "And I live and die with you."

I let the words sink in for a long few moments. And then I said, "Huh."

Turning around to face him, propping myself up a little so that I could do so, I said, "Okay. Now _that_ was romantic."

He smirked.

* * *

Today was one of the bad days.

I knew it from the moment I woke up, knew precisely what sort of day I would have. Not just because of the nightmare, though that was bad enough: watching a thousand crows descend across the Earth, led by Tiff, (who, I had long ago learned, had taken the codename 'Shadow Crow' after Fraye's attack). She let them roam freely across Earth and Asgard and Jotunheim, and I watched, entirely helpless, bound in chains, as they swarmed. As they drew blood and screams from all those around them. I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say that they were in the Tower by the time I finally woke up, screaming my head off.

But Loki wasn't next to me, wasn't there to tell me that everything was all right. He was in my head, trying to do so, but it was still somehow… different. I sighed and fell back on the bed; I'd been waking up a bit late recently.

I calmed myself down by giving my dog a hug, and then my cat, too, for good measure.

Then the rest of my day began.

My travels around Jotunheim had done nothing but remind me about Puck- that was the place that we went to, that was the idiot who had called him a few disgusting names, that was the broadaxe that I had threatened the idiot with- and, in the end, I had decided that I needed to get off-planet for a while. Loki had allowed it, if only because he thought it might be better for me, and I headed straight to the Tower.

Of course, in the Tower, I was bombarded with questions- How did Puck create those circles? Was he talking yet? Were Loki and I even _considering_ agreeing with him, letting him show us to the Faden? Were Loki and I aware of how stupid that would be?- over and over again. Each time from someone new. All of the Avengers asked, all but Natasha and Clint. It seemed that, whatever the truth was, the archer had been informed; that, or he, like Loki and I, simply trusted Natasha's word too much to ask if she could tell us anything more, tell us the full truth. If she could, she would. Simple as that.

I decided that I had to get out of the Tower, too. That I needed to go think. I tried calling my parents, seeing if I could go see them… but my mother told me bunch of old revolutionaries had gotten together for a few drinks at the house, and it was probably best if I didn't come over. I could only imagine why; anyone who fought in the revolution would likely have an opinion of Loki that was lower than dirt. I didn't want to deal with that today.

Still, I couldn't stick around the Tower, so I headed to the one place that I thought would be free of this second life: college. That was why I'd signed up in the first place, right? And sure, I might be failing all of my classes, but I'd still paid for them, and I was sure that there were a few that they'd allow me in…

It wasn't until I was already in the car and driving over there that I remembered: my college life wasn't free from trauma, either. Tiff was still there- and had my dream taught me nothing about how much I could trust _her?-_ and Benny, and Jade and Vicky and all my other friends who would all be asking about what had happened to me and where I had been and… and…

 _Ugh._

As I changed lanes, turning around and heading in the direction of a café instead, it started. Fraye's voice in my brain.

 _Well, well, well,_ she purred. _All dressed up and nowhere to go._

I pulled the car into a parking lot and banged my head back against the headrest a few times. It happened like this, sometimes; where Fraye stopped sounding like Fraye, where it was her voice but maybe not her words. Where, instead of constantly reminding me of how much I was like her and how much blood I'd seen and how much death she could cause if she wanted to take control again, she began just saying whatever random, bitchy thing came to her head. Or _my_ head. Whatever.

I knocked my head to the steering wheel a few times, avoiding the horn, and repeating a mantra in my head with each knock on my skull: _shut up, shut up, shut up._

She giggled. I kept my head on the wheel and waited her out, waited until she was silent again. My bad day was getting worse, but thankfully, Loki hadn't noticed yet, so I kept driving. I knew I shouldn't, knew I should go back, but I also knew that if I spent another minute trapped on Jotunheim, I'd explode. Everything reminded me of Puck there, everything that didn't remind me of Loki, and all of the things that reminded me of Loki just made me lonely, since he wasn't right next to me at the moment.

I heaved a sigh and started driving again.

I did so, aimlessly, for about an hour, before I pulled into a mall center and did some pointless shopping. I'd needed new makeup, anyway; I'd been using it pretty often since I'd been going to all of these parties n'shit.

It calmed me down a little. I liked shopping, on occasion, though now I realized how much of a security nightmare it could be. There were cameras all over the place, watching what I did, and I was of half a mind to steal something at random, just to piss of some security guard somewhere. I didn't, of course, but I _wanted_ to.

Loading my shopping bags into the car, I was reminded of the last time I went to the mall. I shoved the memory forcefully from my mind. The last time was with Tiff. Tiff was an agent. Tiff had lied to me. I had forgiven her, I'd gotten over it.

 _No you didn't,_ Fraye giggled out the words. _She lied to you._ _ **Puck**_ _lied to you. And you thought that you were so_ _ **good**_ _at being able to tell when someone was a_ _ **liar…**_

I slammed the trunk closed. _SHUT UP!_

I drove around for another, aimless half hour.

Finally, I pulled up at a café. It wasn't _the_ Café, the one that I used to frequent with April, the one where I had met Nick Fury for the first time. I figured that I couldn't spend any time in _the_ Café; not after its history. So I was looking for another one. Besides, I needed a caffeine fix.

The Café was called _Bean Speak,_ probably for some reason personal to the manager that was likely full of depth and meaning. I, personally, thought it was a stupid name, but hey, the coffee smelled great. I was willing to give it a chance.

It had a nice atmosphere to it, too. Kinda homey. The checkerboard tiles on the floor could use some rethinking, though. I stepped in, ordered the largest coffee they had, and started looking around for a place to sit.

It was then that I spotted him, in the corner of the room. His wire-frame, round Harry Potter glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, which was buried in a book. His entire short-but-skinny frame was folded up on the poofy, comfy-looking chair, and it was clear that he was utterly absorbed in the text he held. Gold-brown freckles peppered his skin, which was a little darker than mine, and as I watched, he pushed his glasses up his nose, closer to his deep brown eyes. His tousled hair was also brown, though it was a lighter color, and, with the sunlight streaming in from the window, it could almost be called blonde. He had a single silver-black stud in his right ear and a ring on his left hand. A wedding ring, to be exact.

Adrian.

"Adrian?" I asked, then realized how stupid that was. I shouldn't be talking to people right now, I really shouldn't… but, too late, he was looking up at me. He smiled hugely, a geeky grin crossing his bookish face.

"Natalie, hey!" he called, waving. Giving in, I crossed the room, over to where he was set up. Surprisingly, there wasn't a stack of books next to him; only the one in his hands, and the coffee next to him. He was one of our 'group', but I hadn't seen him that much since Loki's reign. He'd taken a semester off of college in order to recover, which was perfectly understandable.

"'Sup short stuff?" I asked, because I knew he got annoyed by 'short' comments. Truth be told, he was only a few inches shorter than me, but he was still the smallest of our group. I plopped down into a seat that I dragged in front of him.

"Oh, not much," he said flippantly.

"Yeah? How's Kaylee?"

Kaylee was his wife of three years; despite being smallest of our group, Adrian was still the oldest. And he'd married young, as I was planning to. "She's great," he answered, beaming. "And what about you? Why aren't you in class right now? Between classes or something?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nah, I dropped out for like the fifth time." I shook my head. "My job, man, it's a real pain in my ass."

"You ever try online courses?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

I'd thought about that, but really, that would defeat the purpose. I went to college just to see other people; not because I wanted to get a good education. So I just shrugged. "Not yet. Thinking about it, though."

 _Such a talented liar,_ Fraye's voice cooed. _Yet so bad at figuring out who is lying in return._

I ignored this. My worse day was now becoming intolerable. I was actually just sort of waiting for it to end.

Adrian and I exchanged small chit chat for a while before I asked, "So what are you doing here, anyway? Waiting for Kaylee or something?"

"Oh. No," he shook his head. "Didn't the others say anything? The gang's getting together today, group hangout." He grinned, swiftly.

"Oh, really?" I asked, pretending to be excited. "Who's coming?"

"Um…" he checked his phone quickly, counting texts. Then, reading from his list, he said, "Vicky, Jade, Ben… and I think he's bringing his girlfriend."

My heart skipped. "O-Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah, they're coming here right after class. They should be here in a bit if you wanna stay-"

But I'd already gotten up. Tiff and I hadn't talked much since… well, since everything. And today… well, maybe today wasn't the day to have any kind of heart-to-heart, but I knew for a _fact_ that it wasn't the day to fake being friendly again.

"Nah, it's okay," I said, plastering on a smile. "Actually, I think I should be goi-"

Too late. As I turned to the door, it opened. Across the café, I saw them come inside; Tiff and Benjamin, the pair of them laughing about some joke that one of them had just told…

 _Or putting on a show,_ Fraye purred. _Playing pretend that everything's okay… Just like you are… just like you_ _ **always**_ _are…_

 _Just shut up. Shut the_ _ **hell up.**_

I swallowed, hard, as Tiff caught sight of me. Her eyes met mine.

A thousand communications flashed between us within that second. A thousand different thoughts running through our minds, running in between each other. We knew everything that those people in here did not, we knew all of those things that we had to hide from everyone else, we knew all of our own secrets and why we could not let them be spilled to these people…

And so she smiled and waved to me, pointing me out to her boyfriend. He smiled, too, a little more genuine, but also a little warier. He also waved.

He walked up to me while Tiff got coffee. "Hey, Natalie," he said with a weak grin. "What's up?"

I shrugged. "Ah, nothing new. Sorry, though, I can't stay. I've got some stuff to deal with back at home, so…" I shrugged again. "You know."

He nodded. "Sure, sure."

"You're never around anymore, Natalia," Tiff said, popping up next to us. I glanced at the line; she never would've stayed in a line that long without saying hi to everyone first, I knew that much from that time before I'd found out what she was. So why would she change now? She was still undercover, after all.

 _At least, around_ _ **them**_ _._

 _SHUT. UP._

"Yeah, well, places to go, people to see," I shrugged, with a trace of self-deprecation.

"But, mostly your boyfriend," Adrian said with a knowing wink in my direction. Instead of scowling at him, however, I adopted a lofty attitude and replied, "But of course. He's much better company than any of you losers."

As one, Tiff and Ben clutched their hearts. "Oh, ow!" Ben cried, as Tiff said, "Shot! I've been shot!" and tumbled to the ground, gleaning a lot of attention from the other, startled customers. Adrian just laughed, and I forced myself to join in. Tiff's antics would've always made me laugh before.

I guessed I was undercover, too.

Ben helped a giggling Tiff back to her feet. For a second, their eyes met… and then, quickly, but not quickly enough to be noticed by Adrian, he pulled his hand away. Tiff looked away from her boyfriend, her cover story, and tried to avoid both his eyes and mine. So their relationship was still rocky. And why wouldn't it be? In the end, she'd just been using him from the beginning.

"Right, then," I said, clearing my throat awkwardly. "I'll see you all later."

And then I started towards the door. I made it three steps before I realized I'd forgotten my coffee; feeling harried, but knowing that they'd notice if I left it behind (something I would never do), I ran back and grabbed it before hurrying out the door.

I was stopped by Vicky, who was entering the café just as I was leaving it. She tried to say a bubbly hello, but I cut her off with, "Leaving, have to, sorry, bye!"

And then I was running. Running towards my car.

 _Running away, Natalie?_ Fraye purred in my ear. _I thought you were better than that. I thought you faced your fears._

I clamped my fists on either side of my head, knocking my knuckles against my temples and trying to drive her out, without giving a second thought as to how it would look to the outside observer. I stumbled towards the car, swaying a little with each step, barely managing to look both ways and see where I was going. Her voice was still in my head, and it was getting louder. It was choking out my own thoughts, choking out Loki's thoughts. I had to get back home. I had to get back home and lie down in my room and wait for it all to go away, wait for everything to be better again.

Everything had to be better again…

 _Oh, really, Natalie,_ Fraye huffed, sounding indignant. _I thought you knew better than that. You know things will never be the same, not anymore. This isn't going to get better. It's just going to get worse. And worse and worse and worse until I finally get my way._

 _Your way?!_ I shrieked, knowing full well that I was arguing with a voice in my head. Well, I'd done it before. _Get your way?! What do you_ _ **want**_ _Fraye, what do you_ _ **want**_ _that I haven't already_ _ **given**_ _you?! That you haven't already_ _ **taken**_ _from me?!_

Standing by the car door now, I started fumbling with the keys. My fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate; after a long few moments, the keys slipped from my grasp and fell, with a loud metallic sound, against the asphalt. But I couldn't hear it. My head was filled with Fraye's laughter.

 _That's quite simple, Nat'lee,_ she said, now in her child's voice. The one she used when she first conned us into believing that she was on our side. That she was innocent.

The one she used whenever she wanted to pull something particularly sadistic, while I was in that chair…

 _I want you to look up._

Look up?

Part of me rebelled. It screamed and fought and thrashed and told Fraye to go crawl back into the hole I'd buried her in. But it was so reflexive, so easy- _look up-_ just such a simple thing to do, do it and be done, and she'll be gone – _look up-_ and I found that I did it. I looked up.

I looked up and saw Death.

She giggled girlishly, this pale, bone-thin girl with paper-white skin and jewel-black eyes that were, apparently, deader than she was. Empty, hollow features stared back at me with a smile curling on thin lips, her black hair flowing in the wind behind her and leaking shadows, which poured out into the street. A cloak swirled and sashayed about her skinny little frame, throwing up dust in the street, as she stood, perfectly still, before me.

"Hello, Natalie," she said, and now I could hear her voice. I could hear it out loud, it wasn't just in my head, it was out here, it was _real,_ it was _real_ and I… I was…

I was terrified.

My breathing was coming in gasps, when it came at all. My heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest as my ears started ringing, as I became deaf to any and all sound except for that voice. As I even became deaf to Loki's cries, as he shouted in my head and told me that it wasn't real, of course it wasn't real, how could it be real…?

I was trembling, certain that I was shaking as quickly as Puck had been, before he'd exploded, before… before everything. I was hyperventilating, and my fingers and toes started to tingle as my blood buzzed, too quickly, through my veins. But all I could say, through this fear, was a denial.

"No."

Fraye tilted her head to the side and smiled sarcastically. "Really, Natalie?"

"No," I said again, trying to sound firm. My voice was shaky and squeaky and in no way intimidating.

"This is what you're going with?" Fraye asked, and her sarcasm turned to glee. She took a step forwards, clapping her hands together as I stumbled back a step.

"N-No!" I shouted, but it came out weak, pained. I threw out a hand, trying to stop her from coming any closer, trying to flare my force field… but the fear overwhelmed me. The terror was too great; there was no anger inside of me, no fury to fuel my abilities on. Only the terror. Only the pain, as every last one of my scars- even the ones that had long ago healed- suddenly reopened, as I suddenly felt them all, lashing across my body once again.

"You think that you can deny this?" She asked, holding out her hands. "That it won't be real if you just _say_ it isn't?"

"NO!" I screamed, closing my eyes, screwing them shut and clamping my hands over my ears. "No, this isn't real, it's not happening, not happening, you're-you're _NOT REAL!"_ The words came out, skipping and halting, pouring out of me, until at last I could only scream. Scream this denial.

"Of course I'm real, Nat'lee," She cooed. "After all, you haven't _seen_ me before, have you? Since I 'died'?"

I shook my head. I think I was crying, but I felt no tears. Maybe I was just shaking. "That's right," I moaned. "That's right, you're dead, I saw you die! I saw your grave, I watched you being buried, I saw it happen… _I_ _ **made**_ _it happen! I KILLED YOU!"_

I couldn't look at her… but I couldn't look _away_ from her. I fought to put my eyes back on her, trembling in fear and horror, but as I looked up… she was gone. I was almost relieved, almost happy, almost ecstatic…

Until her voice appeared in my ear again… and I felt her hands, her hands the temperature of shadows and darkness- neither hot nor cold- as she whispered, her words veiled in a cloak of night, "Didn't I tell you? I can _never_ die."

And then the lash sliced across my back. I wasn't screaming anymore. No more arguments, no more insistence that this wasn't real… I was just running. I was fleeing for my life and I was hearing her laughing still ringing in my ears as I ran, as I ran and ran and ran, and I didn't look where I was going and ran, and I didn't look anywhere and ran, and I became blind and ran…

I stopped hearing anything but her laughter. I stopped seeing anything but darkness. I stopped feeling anything but the pain of the scars, still branded in my skin, even now, even after they had been erased. And, above all, I stopped knowing. I stopped knowing anything, anything about Loki or how much he loved me, anything about the Avengers who would surely come to save me, anything about my human friends who may have once cared for me… all I knew, in that moment, was that it had been a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream, in which Loki had come to save me and I was going to live my wonderful life with him… but it was time to wake up now… it was time to get back to my real life now, it was time to remember what he did to me…

Fraye's laugh burned into my mind as I knew this, as I knew that Loki had thrown me here, that _Loki_ had been responsible for this, that _Loki_ was the traitorous _**bastard**_ who had flung me directly into Fraye's arms, into her grasp, her embrace, and it was his fault, his fault, _his fault_ that I was feeling all of this pain… and I started tasting blood, started feeling it on my hands and started wishing that it was his… oh, if only it could be his, if only I could destroy him, piece by piece, as he had done to me…

"NATALIE!"

The voice that brought me out of the darkness. It wasn't Loki's. It wasn't one of the Avenger's. It wasn't, as I once thought it might be, Puck's. It wasn't Tiff's.

It was Benjamin's.

"Oh, shit, oh, oh, _crap,_ some… so- _SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!"_ Benny screamed, shouting into the sounds of… of something. Something familiar. Something I'd lived with for years, something that used to lull me into sleep at night… Oncoming traffic. The sound of cars, passing back and forth beside me.

"She just…" Another voice. "She just ran right in front of me, I don't… I didn't mean to… I…" Fear in this voice, shaky and weak. Had Fraye found him? Had Fraye tortured this man, too?

I gasped into life, opening my eyes and looking around wildly. "Where is she?" I demanded, looking around. There was a horrendous, terrible pain shooting down the entire right half of my body, a screaming, slicing, stabbing, fiery ache, oh, realms, what was that? What had she _done_ to me? "Where-?!" I gripped Ben's collar, trying to stabilize myself. My eyes scanning a crowd that was watching, looking at me in horror. Looking at the commotion around me, some of them turning away, sickened by the sight of blood.

Blood…

Where had the blood come from?

Where was Fraye? I couldn't see her in the crowd. I couldn't… I couldn't think.

It was only the sight of my own blood, pooling around me, only Benny's voice telling me that, "Everything's gonna be okay, Natalie, you're gonna be all right, just hold on," that made it all so clear to me. Fraye was dead. She was still dead, she was still buried, it was all over… I was okay, I was really okay, I had just been running from a ghost…

 _But why all of this blood…?_

That was when I saw the car. Splattered with droplets of red, its front bumper was dented. But the damage there was nothing compared to the mess of red and agony that my body had become.

I knew my leg was broken. A few ribs, too. The leg I couldn't feel, not anymore, but I could see it; the sight of it made me surprisingly ill. The ribs I could just _feel._ There were things moving about inside of me that just _shouldn't_ be. Benny kept telling me- his words mixed with curses- that everything was okay, that it was all right, that I was going to be fine, that they had called an ambulance, that everything would be okay now. He was wrong, of course. But I let him be wrong.

I stopped trying to prop myself up. I stopped trying to look around. I stopped trying to listen to the chaos and cacophony around me. I just let my eyes close as I started to feel sick, as the pain sharpened and increased, growing worse and worse until I could feel nothing at all. I kept my eyes closed and listened to Loki's voice in my head, saying just about the same things that Benny was, things that I still did not believe. But he was also saying that he was coming for me, that if I just held on, everything would be all right. That he would be here for me in just a minute. And that, I believed.

Would I have a minute, though? The world was slipping into darkness. Succumbing to sleep would mean an escape from this pain; whether it was a temporary or permanent one, I couldn't tell. I wasn't sure what the damage was. So I let myself sleep anyway.

And, for the first time since my torture, for the first time since I had killed Fraye… a tear found its way into my eye.

I felt it there. I felt it burn. And I felt it squeeze out of the corner of my closed eyelids and fall down my cheek, splashing onto the asphalt. _Loki…?_

He shut up. And then he was talking again. _I'm here, Natalie. I'm here, I'm not leaving you._

 _Loki…_ I said. My breath hitched. The pain was back again. Numbness, then pain. Numbness, then pain. The story of my life. All of the bad parts condensed. But there was one good part. One great part.

One _perfect_ part.

 _Loki,_ I said again. _I love you._

He stopped, freezing in his tracks. His own eyes burned. _No, Natalie, don't… don't start with-_

 _Loki,_ I said firmly, though I was beginning to slip away. _I love you._

Water filled his lower eyelids. He tried to blink it away and shook his head out fiercely, striding forwards again, stalking towards the portal, towards the Tower. _You're not going to die. I won't_ _ **let**_ _you die, do you hear me, Frost?!_

 _Okay,_ I promised. _Okay. But Loki… Loki, I love you._

 _Stop,_ he pleaded. Pleaded and raged. _Please, Natalie… stop._

 _I love you._

The tears started. They flowed. And they wouldn't stop. Not on either of our faces. _I love you, too,_ he said at last. _Natalie… I love you so very much… I'm coming for you, Natalie, I won't let it end, not like this… not like_ _ **this…**_

And I faded into blackness with these last words ringing in my head: _I won't let her take you from me again._

 **A/N: Thank you guys again, so much, for your reviews! They help me so much!**


	11. Maimed, In Pain, Playing Drinking Games

"Natalie! Natalie… _Natalie!"_

The man burst through the door. He had black hair that stuck up in a tousled, just-rolled-out-of-bed way, handsome features, and deep eyes the color of dark chocolate. His skin was pale, and his body tall and lanky, built with wiry muscle. His voice was smooth and deep, but in his anxiety it had become hoarse and strained. Still, relief was clear inside of it as he caught sight of the unconscious girl on the table.

That girl, by the way, was me. And though you wouldn't know it to look at him, that man… well, that man was Loki.

The doctors operating on said unconscious Frost (AKA still me) looked up at the newcomer in alarm. A harried, anxious-looking nurse in pink scrubs walked inside, apologizing swiftly and profusely. "I'm so sorry, I've been trying to get him to leave, he simply _won't!_ "

Another two nurses arrived to help her; a man and a woman, who both stepped towards Loki cautiously. He ignored them all, brushing past the doctors and gripping my hand tightly. "Natalie?" he whispered, a trace of panic returning to his voice. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

"Who is this guy?" one of the doctors asked, seeming offended. Loki ignored his offense and gripped my hand tighter.

"I'm her fiancé," he responded coolly, a tone of dangerous ice, cracking beneath a person's feet. His eyes, still dark brown, flicked up to the man. "And you would be?" he demanded lethally.

"The man who's trying to save her life," the doctor answered curtly. Most of the others were giving him harsh looks, and one of them leaned closer to Loki.

"We're trying to help," he said, quietly. "We're doing everything we can, but you're going to have to leave n-"

" _That,"_ Loki assured them all, in his most deadly tone of voice. "Shall not be possible."

"Look, we are in the middle of an operation!" The first doctor shouted. "If you want us to save her life, you'll leave this room right now, and _**let us**_ _do our_ _**jobs**_ _!"_

"Your job?" Loki inquired, as one of the nurses stepped forwards. He reached out to grab Loki's arm and lead him out, but before he could, Loki promised, "I will see that hand removed if you so much as move one fraction of an inch closer." The nurse froze. Loki had been certain to put enough of his real voice into the illusion's that, on a subconscious level, the nurse might recognize the former king's orders inside of it. Having not turned to the nurse, but keeping his eyes instead on the doctor, Loki said, "And I know of plenty who can do this particular 'job' far better than you, _sir,_ so I suggest you stand aside and allow me to-"

"Even if that's true," the second doctor said, quickly, before things could escalate any further. Another doctor was working to stabilize the patient (yep, still me) throughout this skirmish. "There is no way that we can move her right now. She _has_ to stay here. She _has to."_

Loki regarded the man for a long moment. Finally, "Continue."

The man sighed, a little sigh of relief. "Even if you have another, personal doctor that you want her to see, she's not stable enough right now. We can't move her; if we tried, she'd die."

Loki looked at the man for a long time, a hard stare that bored through to the doctor's core. Swallowing against the bitter taste that flooded his tongue, the Trickster admitted to himself that this, indeed, made a vast degree of sense. Stepping back to allow the doctors back into their places, he said, "Very well, then." Slipping his fingers out of mine carefully, he stepped back. "But I will _not_ leave her."

"Oh, for the love of-" the first doctor raged. Looking to the nurses, he ordered, "Call security, get this fool _out_ of here!"

Loki's eyes flashed and gleamed. "I invite them all to try," he said, in a poisonous, toxic tone. "But I believe I shall only leave you with more patients in the end, good doctor." He said the last words with only a layer of sarcasm; but it was all that was needed.

"Look, pal, we're just trying to-"

"Woah, okay!" A new voice cut in. Loki's eyes flashed as they locked on Stark, who came into the room. The doctor threw up his hands, muttering under his breath about the OR not being a zoo. "Look, Lo… Um… Lawrence." Loki gave him a dark glare, and Stark shrugged swiftly before continuing, "Lawrence, these doctors are only trying to do their job, okay? Natalie's going to be fine." His eyes flicked to my prone, unconscious body on the table, and Loki noticed the way that he turned a few shades paler. It was very clear that he was not certain of that assessment. But, after clearing his throat, he charged on through his words, anyway. "Come on, don't cause a scene, okay? We'll wait for her in the waiting room. She's drugged up; she's not going to know the difference."

"But I shall," Loki replied dangerously. He planted his feet in the corner of the room and stayed there.

"Look," the first doctor snapped. "This is a _sterile_ environment. And _you… you_ are _not_ sterile. You are also very obviously _not in control._ Ipso facto, you need to _get the hell out of my OR!"_

Loki gave the man a very deadly look, taking a step forwards. Tony stepped up in front of him. "Hey, _hey!_ Take a step back, okay? Just keep calm. This isn't what she'd want, remember?"

Loki's nostrils flared, but he took a step back. Tony nodded, slowly. "Good, good… okay, now we _need_ to back off right now, okay? They're not going to give in and… and we need them to operate on Natalie right now… and, oh, great, hello, security guards, nice to see you."

For, indeed, a bunch of men in police uniforms had stepped inside. "Sirs, we need you to come with us," one said. Tony raised his hands and said, "Yes, yes, working on that," while Loki's lip just curled.

"Stark?" A voice cut in through the commotion. The doctor threw up his hands again and cursed violently. Steve walked through the doors. "What's going on, have you got him out yet… ah. No. Apparently not." He stepped forwards. "Lok-"

"LAW-rence," Stark cut in, giving Steve a hard look. Steve blinked. "Yes, I was telling _Lawrence_ here that he _needs to leave_ before he _causes a scene…?_ " He lowered his voice. "And maybe something else… a little more _interplanetary…?"_

Steve cottoned on and nodded swiftly. "Yes. Absolutely. Come on, Lawrence, you know she wouldn't want this, she just needs-"

"Brother!"

At the introduction of this fourth person, the first doctor gave up, stalking off in a huff and cursing even worse than before as the other two swarmed in quickly to stabilize the crazy blood flow that he had left behind. Loki had been wise enough to disguise Thor in illusion as well before entering the hospital, (though admittedly, in his… 'haste', he had been far less kind to his brother's false features, making them look decidedly uglier than his own).

As Thor stepped forwards, he took Loki's shoulder in a firm grip. "What news? Can we take her to the Healers?"

The other doctors gave him quizzical looks- those who weren't working frantically on my prone figure. Loki shook his head as the other doctor pointed out, "She can't be moved just yet."

"Okay, this is getting out of hand," one of the security officers said, gripping Tony by the shoulder. "Sorry, Mr. Stark," he added, "But you have to leave. Now." He started to drag Tony from the room as another man grabbed Steve's shoulder. The Captain shrugged him off. "Trust me," he promised, gesturing to Loki. "You'll want some extra muscle if he gets violent."

"Are we not allowed here?" Thor asked of his brother. His eyes fell to me, still in surgery, and he swallowed. Loki nodded mutely, watching me. "Then we should leave, brother. Allow her to get well." His hand rested on Loki's arm.

"Remove that hand, brother," Loki promised, though without much venom. "Or I will remove it for you."

Thor didn't respond in kind. His features merely softened. "Come now, brother," he said, very quietly. "You cannot assist her now. We can do nothing for her… but wait."

Loki stared at me. Stared for a while longer. And then he moved forwards, around the doctor, and leaned down to kiss me on the forehead. Blood smeared across his cheek as he straightened, but he walked out of the room without another word. Relieved, Steve and Thor followed.

The OR was silent once more.

"Okay, everyone," the doctor said, relieved, as the nurses and security officers poured out of the room. "Let's save this girl." He looked down, holding sterilized needle and thread in his hand as he said, "We've got too many people counting on us bringing her back."

* * *

"Brother?" Loki asked as they all walked towards the waiting room. Thor turned, curious, to Loki. His eyes were strangely blank and empty. "May I speak with you? Privately?"

Thor looked to him, curious, his eyebrows furrowing. But he nodded, and Loki found them an empty room; a place without occupants where, for the time being, they would not be disturbed. The other Avengers had moved on to the waiting room; and so, for now, they were alone. The Trickster removed the illusion surrounding the brothers, so that they were themselves once more.

Thor looked to Loki. He was worried, that much he would admit. After all that we had been through, Loki and I, it did not seem right, did not seem _just_ or _fair,_ that such a horrible, tragic accident could separate us. It did not seem right, that he should lose his brother, his sister, so soon after getting them both back.

"What is it, Loki?" he asked, gentle and careful.

The Trickster studied the Thunderer. For a long time, he did not speak. He said not a word. He merely looked into his brother's rain-blue eyes and wondered. Wondered if he could ask this. Wondered if it was right. Wondered if there was anyone else he _could_ ask. Wondered if he would get the answer he wanted, the answer he _needed._

But one can only wonder for so long, and, after a long moment, Loki sighed. Looking away, already feeling the pain of being separate from me, his other half, he said, "I need to ask something of you, brother."

Thor's eyebrows furrowed. But, true to form and loyal to the bitter end, he said, "Name it."

Loki looked up to him. Still so trusting. His heart ached; his brother _needed_ him. His brother _needed_ me. He needed us both, needed us to protect him, to keep him from agreeing to things like this, to promising things that he could not deliver. But right now… right now, Loki needed that promise and if he had to get it in this way, if he had to rely on Thor's unconditional trust… then so be it. One last Trick.

Swallowing, he looked up at Thor and said, "I need you… I need you to promise me something. One thing. I need you to swear to me that, whatever I ask, no matter what it is… you will do it for me."

Thor's forehead creased as his eyebrows furrowed just a little more. "Of course, brother," he said softly, then repeated, "Name it."

"No matter _what_ it is, brother, swear it! Now!"

"I…" Now, at last, Thor looked somewhat nervous. But Loki would no longer allow him to back away. This was too important. Far too vital.

"Swear it!" he spat.

"I swear!" Thor replied almost immediately, looking worried, haggard. "I swear, Loki, whatever it may be!"

Loki sighed in relief. His trembling hands grew a little steadier as he ran them through his hair, as he pushed it back, away from his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stabilize himself.

"Loki…" Thor said, very worriedly. Loki looked back to him. And then he looked away again. No matter what, he could not look his adopted brother in the eye as he said this. He simply couldn't.

"Very well, then," Loki said, quietly. "If… If Natalie Frost dies today…"

"She will not," Thor said firmly.

"Of course not," Loki snarled, even more firmly than his brother, his words tinged with hate. But then the hate died and, after a moment, he said, "But… if… _if_ she does… you know what will become of me."

Thor swallowed. Carefully, he reached forwards, taking his brother's shoulder. "We'll find a way," he promised. When Loki looked up to him, the Thunderer swallowed and added, "I will help you through it, Loki, if I must. You will carry on. Jotunheim will carry on."

Loki smiled weakly. Such a naïve, trusting heart. Always willing to believe in the good of the universe, always seeing another way out. But not this time, Loki knew. There was no other way this time.

"It is _for_ Jotunheim that I must ask you to do this," Loki said softly, taking his brother's hand on his shoulder, removing it and allowing it to fall. "Brother… if Natalie Frost dies… if I become… as I was…" he paused. And this time, when he looked down, he did not dare to look up at his brother again. Not until the words were said and completed. "I need you to kill me."

Silence rang through the room. Loki could not look up. He couldn't.

And then, "No."

Stubborn fool. Loki's eyes flashed as he turned his eyes back to his brother again. "You swore," he reminded his brother.

"Then I am going back on my word," Thor responded fiercely. "You should know how that works, Loki, you've done it often enough yourself."

Loki's face twisted in anger. "If Natalie dies, Thor, then I do not know what I-"

"You will _live,_ brother!" Thor's voice rose. "You will _live!_ You _must_ live! For her sake if not your own, for the sake of her memory!"

"You saw what I was like, Thor! You saw what I _became,_ the last time she was removed from my mind! I cannot do that again! I _will_ not!"

"And _I_ cannot lose you both!" Thor half-shouted, half-moaned. Gripping his brother's shoulder, he demanded, "Is it not enough for you that I may lose the woman I call sister… but I must also _destroy_ the man I call my brother with _my own hands?_ " He shook his head. "No. No, Loki, do not ask this of me. I cannot do it. I will not."

"Who?" Loki demanded. "Who, if not you, could I ask?" Thor kept shaking his head, back and forth, still moaning quietly. Loki went on, "Even if one of the Avengers agreed, who among them is capable? Very few, without releasing Banner's Other. And if they did… you… _you_ are my _brother."_ His hand gripped the top of Thor's arm as the Thunderer avoided his eyes. "I can only ask this of you. Can only ask this of family."

"You needn't _ask_ at all!" Thor's voice was a full-fledged yell by now, likely drawing attention to the fact that there were people in this room. But neither brother seemed too troubled by the idea of discovery. "Even if… even if _I_ could, Loki, this world needs you! _Your_ world needs you! Jotunheim _needs_ you, Loki! You are a _king_ now, you cannot abandon your subjects…!"

"It is _for_ Jotunheim that I ask," Loki said. "Not only for myself. I have already worn a crown without Natalie at my side. I killed needlessly and recklessly and never knew what I had truly done, what orders I had given and what ones I had not. Had it continued, I would have led the world to ruin." Gripping Thor's arm tighter, he said, "I cannot do that to Jotunheim. Particularly not when it has begun to create such a prosperous alliance with Asgard." His eyes softened, just slightly. "You have seen what I become. You have seen… how uncaring I can truly be. If this happens… I will not _care,_ not about Jotunheim, or Asgard or Earth or the Avengers… or even you, brother. You know this."

Thor looked to him at last. Loki's eyes were pleading. He was swallowing his own hysteria, trying to speak logically… but in truth, all he wished to do was shake Thor, to shout in his face, to scream of what he could not do and would not do, and what he wouldn't do was _this._ He wouldn't go through this again, not without another way out, not without a release. The same release he had given Fraye.

"Loki…" Thor said, and Loki could see it in his eyes that he was close. That he was near breaking. That one more chip in the stone would send it crumbling down.

"Please, Thor," he begged. No more logic and no more manipulation, no more lies and no more shouts. Just pleading, just begging, pure and simple. "Please. I cannot _live_ without her. I _won't._ "

Thor looked to him. Loki had no more words; he could only wait, wait and watch, as Thor studied him. And then, looking away and closing his eyes, looking as though the movement was beyond painful, beyond agony, he nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Very well," he repeated.

And then he seemed to have no more words. Loki considered him… then stuck out a hand for Thor to shake.

"Swear it?" he asked.

Thor looked at him. He took Loki's hand. And then he pulled the Trickster into his arms, clapping on hand against his brother's back.

"I swear it," he said into Loki's ear. And then his voice dropped into a growl so fierce that it actually frightened the Trickster. "But it will not happen. Not today." His words grew even darker, filled with the power of the king of Asgard. "Because Natalie _will not die."_

And then he released Loki and, without another word, without even looking back, he stalked out of the room.

* * *

It had taken some work, to get here. But Natasha was nothing if not clever, if not _thorough._ She knew those Jotun sentries who had taken note of her the last time she was on this world, knew which ones might follow her commands, if she voiced them in the proper way, if she laid out subtle hints and suggestions that it was the Shadowslayers behind them. Or, at least, the one Shadowslayer; the one still conscious.

Still, the sentry _had_ taken some convincing. At last, however, he led her to the prisons- after all, what could one human do? - and allowed her inside of the cell of the half-breed.

He was on the floor again, facing the wall. He said nothing, silently contemplating the stone and ice around him, as though they were the single most fascinating things in the universe. Natasha, however, could see the signs of boredom in the confines of this cage; the chips in the wall, scratched there with a rock, the blood on his fingernails, from where he had picked at them ruthlessly, the way his hair had become messy and unkempt. She noted these things but pushed them aside, kept tabs on them in the back of her mind but found them of little relevance to the situation at hand.

"Natalie Frost has just been in a very severe car accident," she said, with no attempt at pleasantries, no greetings or salutations. Merely an exchange of information.

"Oh?" Puck asked. "It must be very painful. All of those broken bones."

"You knew."

"I know many things, Agent Romanoff. Who is to say that this accident was not one of them?"

The spy studied the prisoner; or rather, the prisoner's back. And then, casually, she pulled a knife from in inside of her boot. Barely taking the time to aim, she flung the knife inside of the cage, past the bars which separated her from the half-breed, and watched it bury itself, briefly, in the ice beside Puck's head, before clattering to the ground. For perhaps the first time, he jumped, seeming startled, and whirled around to her.

"I have had enough of your games, Puck," she said blankly, her eyes a dark abyss. Her features were expressionless as she said, in a black velvet voice, "The closest thing that I will ever have to a friend, besides the man whom I am currently engaged to, is lying as a bloody mess in a hospital bed. She already has enough PTSD to wipe out a number of planets; and after this event, it's highly likely that everything will merely be that much worse. I don't care if you knew it would happen or if you didn't; all I want to know, all I _need_ to know, is this." She stepped forwards, crouching down in front of the still-somewhat-startled Puck. "What is the fallout?"

Puck looked back at her for a long three seconds. And then Natasha carried on, elaborating on her query. "Clearly, she lives; you would not be here, would not be so calm, if she did not. But what does the continuation of her existence mean for her, for the realms she is meant to protect? What does this… 'accident' _do_ to her mental condition?"

Puck was silent for a long moment, his gaze on the Black Widow. Though her features were empty and her body language expressionless, save for her emotionless intensity, he read all that he needed to know from her eyes; and read it aloud, so that even she could hear it. "And will she become a threat that you must eliminate?"

Natasha didn't respond, and he sighed, deeply. Sitting back, entirely facing her now, he told her, "I know enough of this incident to tell you that it had to happen. That it is this reminder of Natalie's mortality that will force her and Loki to act." He kept his tone even and smooth as he promised, "Natalie may suffer a great trauma from this; but what she does suffer, from her past and from the other things that haunt her… well, that will not be your problem any longer." His head tilted to the side. "This is how things must be, Natasha Romanoff. I cannot change what Fates decree."

Natasha contemplated that. Then, carefully, she stood. Sliding the second knife, which she had removed but not used, back into her shoe, she asked, "Would you wish to? If you were capable of it?"

His eyes seemed suddenly… faded. Sighing deeply, heavily, as though the weight of the world was on his chest, he said, "Would you not wish that, for the ones you loved? To change those things that would hurt them?" he shook his head. "But life is a mess. A chaotic tangle of love and hate, joy and hurt. I could no more remove the pain from her life as I could remove the easing of that pain. For, in her case… most of her happiness is derived from that." He smiled, so very weakly. "She defines happiness as simply… the absence of pain."

Natasha's eyes flicked to the ground as he added, "But then… you know that feeling very well… don't you, Agent Romanoff?"

The spider looked away. And then, in complete silence, she left the cell for a final time.

* * *

Loki had seen Benjamin in the waiting room. He had also seen Tiff, Vicky, Adrian and Jade for a while, but many of them had left. But not the Avengers. Not Tiff. Not Natasha, though she had arrived somewhat late. Stark, Romanoff and Barton were all getting looks, and people were whispering about them amongst themselves, but Bruce's and Steve's identities were both secret, and Loki had cloaked himself and his brother beneath an illusion of another face and form. My other friends… well, they were also ignored. They were not famous. In fact, other than Tiff, they didn't even know that these Avengers were all waiting on the same person.

Benjamin left after a while, claiming that he needed to 'get some fresh air'. Loki gave it a long minute before following, saying that he would return soon. Thor wished to come along, just to be certain that nothing went wrong… but Loki swore that he would do nothing, and for once, his brother believed him. Well, that wasn't entirely true; his brother did _not_ believe him. But Romanoff _did._ Either she had read his mind or she knew what his intentions were in some other way, or she simply knew the sincerity in his promises when she heard it; but either way, when she vouched for him, Thor stopped pressing the issue.

Loki began to search for Ben silently, but there was really only one place for him to go. He was almost certain that he would have truly gone for 'fresh air'; and so Loki took the elevator, down, down, down the floors, down to the ground floor and out of the doors, out to where he could see Ben, struggling to strike a match. His hands seemed to be trembling too badly to do so, and Loki could see the cigarette held between his middle and forefinger, pinched between the two as he continued trying to set fire to the match. Giving up, he flung the match to the ground and stepped on it, pulling another one out of the book.

Loki glanced around. He could see no one anywhere near who was overtly looking at him. No one would notice him, no matter what he did; this was a place of both healing and death; and the people coming here were there for their loved ones. They did not care about anyone else who may be standing around the building.

Carefully, making certain that no eyes were directly on him, Loki removed the illusion, allowing it to drop away, allowing his shield to drift off into nothingness. Allowing his true self to shine through; albeit in his Asgardian form. A person who bore some resemblance to the old king may be looked over, but a man with dark blue skin was quite possibly pushing it.

Benjamin finally managed to light his match; he muttered under his breath about needing to buy a decent lighter as he put the thin white tube between his lips and took a long pull. He let it out in a sigh, relieved and exhausted and trembling all at once. The stinging smell of tobacco filled the air, sharp and harsh, as Loki walked up beside him.

With no introduction, he announced, "It's a filthy habit."

Ben did not jump. His eyes flickered, briefly, to Loki. And then they looked forwards again, entirely uncaring. Loki added, "She'd kill you if she knew."

"Yeah," Ben said, taking another pull and sighing it out again. "Yeah, she probably would." He didn't look back to Loki, but rather, watched the cars in the parking lot as they pulled in and out of their spaces, as they disgorged nervous-looking people, or excitable families. He did not seem to care that the king whom he had rebelled against only months ago, the king whom he had been told was dead, was standing naught but a few feet away from him. "But, you know," Ben said, looking at the burning cinders at the end of his cigarette, "When you're staging a revolution, you tend to need some stress relievers."

"True enough," Loki said. "Though I would've thought that a runner would wish to keep his lungs intact."

Ben grunted something that could or could not have been a response. But he said nothing further, and the two fell silent.

At last, feeling more weary and pale and sickly with each second that passed, with each worry that plagued him, Loki asked, "How long have you known?"

Benjamin took his longest drag yet. He coughed a few times, spitting smoke, his throat sounding crackled as he did so. But once the fit had passed, he flicked the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" he asked, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. Looking bitter and hurt and more than a little bit angry, he started listing things off. "She 'works for the government', and everything about her 'job' is classified. Somehow, she knows Tony Stark; and, from all of those others in the waiting room, she clearly knows the other Avengers as well." He seemed to regret snuffing his cigarette and fumbled in his shirt pocket for another one. He pulled it out, and the book of matches, but as he opened the book again, Loki held out a hand.

"Allow me," he offered. Ben hesitated, then handed the thin, white cigarette to him. Loki pinched its tip with his fingers, and sparks flared between them, crackling as he rubbed his fingerprints together, setting the end of the tube aflame. Ben took it back from him without comment, though he watched Loki for a long moment before, taking a swift pull, he carried on again.

"And then she tells me she has a boyfriend named 'Loki'," he said. "Kind of a dead giveaway; though, granted, I didn't know who you were back then." There was a pause, then he went on listing his facts, trying to remove his own anger and cynicism from the words. "Then there's your regime; where she just falls off the face of the planet; yet her parents were so _certain_ that she was dead. And they fight like maniacs in the revolution… the Manhattan rebellions were supposedly the most successful, you know," he added, almost as an afterthought. "And of course, it was because of them. They were active leaders in the rebellion; and why wouldn't you be," he said, and here his voice became wry, sarcastic, "If you were under the protection of the very man that you're trying to dethrone?"

Loki said nothing. He could feel Benjamin's eyes on him, but he couldn't respond to them, could say nothing to that intent stare. Finally, tapping off some ash from the end of his cigarette, Ben said, "And it wasn't just her parents. All of these people who were close to Natalie, who shared her last name… not to mention seeing Jekyll around the Tower- your 'palace'- from time to time. And the fact that you burned her house to the ground." He laughed once, quietly, dryly, and took another drag. "Then the rebellion ends, and she comes back with your name in her arm, claiming that she's engaged to that same boyfriend. That same Loki. And then, and _then,_ the _real_ icing on the cake: a spy ends up using _me_ for her cover." He laughed, so hard that a coughing fit began again. It took a moment before he could carry on, saying, "To get close to Natalie. Oh, she didn't _say_ that was why, but, well…" Holding out his hands as though they were a weighted scale, moving each hand up and down a few times in contrast with the other, he said, "Two plus two is four."

And then he took another pull of his cigarette.

Loki looked forwards. "It's an impressive deduction," he said, very quietly. "I would've assumed that… you would have _wanted_ to believe the story you were given. That you would have _wanted_ me to be… dead."

"Believe me, I wasn't happy when I figured it out," Ben answered, glaring at Loki out of the corner of his eye. Loki did not turn to meet his gaze, did not bother to. Again, they were quiet. This time, Benjamin broke the silence.

"And you know what I don't get?" he asked, and suddenly, Loki could hear his anger. He could hear the hate from an old soldier of the revolution. "Natalie had a boyfriend, right? A long time ago, one of her first steady relationships. She'd been going out with this guy for months… and all of a sudden, one day, he hits her. Just straight-up slaps her in the face. And she kicks his ass to the curb without a second thought." He tapped more ash off of his cigarette and took a long, deep pull, blowing out the smoke as casually as he could manage. "But you… you freaking _torture_ her. You torture her and you carve your name into her arm and… and somehow, she's still head-over-heels for you." He shook his head. "I thought… I dunno." The cigarette had all but burnt itself out by now, and Benjamin flung the butt onto the ground, crunching it beneath his foot, next to the first. "I thought she was _stronger_ than that."

"I never tortured her."

Ben looked to him. Loki's words were so quiet that he hadn't even heard them, that he had to ask, "What?"

The Trickster looked up to the former Revolutionary. The Message Runner. And he said, "I never tortured her."

As Benjamin looked confused, curious, and more than a little wary, Loki admitted, "I have done many terrible things to Natalie Frost. Many unforgivable things that, somehow, she had forgiven me for regardless. But that is not one of them." He looked down at his hands. "It was not these hands which tortured her."

Ben blinked. And then he snorted. "Big deal," he said, turning away. "So you got your shadow-controlling puppet to do it for you."

Loki laughed without mirth. "Fraye was anything _but_ my 'puppet', I can assure you."

"So what, then?" Ben sneered. "Your 'ally'?"

"Hardly."

Benjamin gave him a hard glare, and, after a moment, Loki sighed. "She was my nightmare, Osner. Fraye was my worst enemy." He looked to the mortal, to the human who had once loved the woman who could only love Loki, and who was the only person Loki could love in return. "But beyond that, she was my torturer."

Ben blinked, clearly surprised, and looked away. The boy wasn't a bad liar, wasn't horrible at secreting away his emotions… but, to Loki, he was an open book. He could never match the level of those people that we worked with on a daily basis. Loki half-smirked and looked forwards again, double-checking to be certain that no one had noticed his face yet. But, hiding in plain sight as he was, he was completely invisible; no one expected to see him. And no one expected to see him _here._

"Not what you expected, is it?" Loki asked. Ben shook his head minutely, in what was almost an admission. Loki chuckled without humor, looking ahead into the parking lot. "There is a great deal to our story that you haven't the slightest inkling of," he told the other man. When Ben looked to him, this time, Loki looked back. "I could tell you, if you wished," he offered. "I could tell you everything."

Ben's eyebrows pulled together. "Why?"

Loki shrugged. "Because you have already guessed those facts which will put you in danger. Everything else… well, knowledge is power." He looked forwards again. "And besides… Natalie wishes for you to know."

Ben's eyes fell to the concrete. Loki's voice lowered as he said, "She has _always_ wished for you to know."

There was a long quiet. And then Ben walked over to a bench, seating himself down and gesturing for Loki to take the seat next to him.

"All right, then," he said, pulling out his cigarette packet and setting it down next to him, so that it was within easy reach. "Tell me everything."

As Loki smirked and walked towards him, Ben held up a hand. "But you might wanna change back," he said, gesturing to Loki's form. "I have a feeling we're going to be out here for a while, and I don't think we should be causing a panic."

Loki's lip twitched up at the corner, but he obliged, allowing the illusion to cloak his entirety. And then he sat down next to Benjamin. For a long moment, he merely contemplated his position, and what he was going to say next.

Finally, he spoke. "Very well," he told Ben. "It all started twenty-two years ago; when Natalie was first born; and I was learning of a new form of magic…"

* * *

The story had taken longer to tell than Loki had thought it would; and it was almost an hour and a half later that the two men walked back inside the waiting room. But it had done what he had hoped; it had given him a temporary distraction from what was happening. It had wasted time. Because time was the enemy now.

The Trickster sat back in his seat, watching the doors. Already, impatience was beginning to creep in, anger and fear overwhelming him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to clear the pressure that had started to build behind his eyes. His head ached. He knew not what was happening, what the situation was- and that alone was making him anxious- but he did know this:

 _She's still alive._

He knew this because he could see the dreams, flashing behind his own eyelids every time he closed them. The gory nightmares of blood and death, of a little girl with hands painted red and blue and black and green, of Shadow Hounds and Crows, of all the terrifying things that we had ever seen in our lives…

Loki tried to push them away. He tried to manipulate them, to transform them into lighter dreams, to do _something_ to assist me, when he could not be nearby, could do nothing else.

Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and tried to think, tried _not_ to. In his mind, over and over, he could hear the words that could very well be my last: _Loki, I love you._

His hands started to shake again, and he closed them into fists in an effort to stop the trembling.

He waited, in that waiting room, in that uncomfortable chair, in utter silence, for almost an hour. During that time, he remained immobile, working to remove the darkness from my dreams, working to banish them with light. But, by the time someone sat next to him, disturbing his concentration, he was no nearer to this goal than he had been when he first started.

His eyes opened, and he turned to the person next to him. He was of half a mind to demand what right they had, to interrupt his task, but when he saw who it was, the words died away.

Agent Romanoff wasn't even looking in his direction. Her eyes were off-focus and far ahead, her finger continually running across her belt, where he knew a knife would be, if it had not already been confiscated by security. She alone, of the Avengers, of the entire waiting party, had never once seemed overly anxious or stressed. Instead, she was thoughtful, composed. He knew the spy to be a fairly cold individual, who took emotional shelter in secreting away her feelings, so this did not entirely surprise him. Regardless, he found her manner unsettling, and immediately wished that she would simply leave, and allow him some peace.

That, however, was clearly not meant to be. For as Loki turned and glared forwards, Natasha opened her mouth and spoke. "I know what you asked him."

Loki looked to her. Her eyes flicked to Thor and back, a silent gesture towards the Thunderer that would not be seen by anyone outside of the conversation. Loki felt a sour taste creep up in his throat, and he looked away, quickly.

"Did he tell you?" he asked, very quietly.

"You know better than to think that he had to," she answered, the volume of her voice just as low as his. There was a little smirk in her tone, though, that Loki could no longer match. Not at this particular moment. He attempted a watery smile in return, but it was weak and short-lived, and it died a second before hers did.

"You shouldn't have asked him," Natasha said, after a brief silence.

"I will not live without-"

"I know that," She interrupted. "But you know Thor as well as I do." She crossed her legs and stared at the wall, purposely keeping her eyes well removed from the Thunderer. "He's too soft. He can't make that call. There's a very real possibility that, when the time comes… he'll be incapable of delivering on his promise."

Loki heard his own worries in her words and found himself turning to look at her. She kept her eyes on the wall and did not look back to him, so that he was forced to study her profile. "Are you suggesting that I should have asked you, Agent Romanoff?"

"Or Clint, yes," She answered bluntly. "That's precisely what I'm suggesting."

"That eager for the task, are you?"

"We saw how you were without her, Loki. We won't let our world be threatened like that again. Not by you."

For a while, Loki didn't have a response. When he did, his gaze, too, turned to the wall, finding the patterns there that Natasha herself was staring at. At last, he reminded her, "You are mortal. You may find the task far more difficult than he would."

When she said nothing, Loki looked down to the floor and added, "And, regardless of this… I thought, perhaps, it might be best if… such things… 'remained in the family', as it were." His green eyes, hidden in an illusion of dark brown, watched the ground beneath him, as though, if he looked away or blinked, it would disappear out from beneath him, leave him plummeting down into darkness. "I believe it is… safer, better for all… if this is kept as a family matter."

"And what the _hell_ do you think that _we_ are?"

Loki looked to the agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., startled by the vehemence of her words, the ferocity. It seemed to have surprised even Natasha, who looked away again, looked away from where she had been staring at him.

"You are an Avenger," She said tersely, after a moment of tense, uncomfortable silence. "You are _one of us._ We're bound by battle if not by blood; and I've found those binds far more permanent." Her eyes flashed, just briefly, as she looked back at the Trickster. "So don't discount us."

She stood, straightening. "You didn't ask, so I'll offer. If Natalie dies and Thor fails to do what you wish… then _I will._ " She hesitated, just for a beat, before she added, "Though… I truly do not believe that today is the day we must worry about such things."

And then she walked away, back to her seat beside Clint, who had fallen asleep almost two hours ago. Loki watched her in stunned silence. He wasn't certain of the name of the feeling in his chest; and, after a long moment of attempting to identify it, he pushed the entire incident from his mind.

 _I'll ask Natalie when she wakes up,_ he promised himself, rubbing his chest, trying to quell the… whatever it was.

And he closed his eyes, relishing in the words. _When she wakes up,_ he repeated to himself. _When she wakes up._

And then he closed his eyes, and returned to his attempts at banishing the dreams.

* * *

This scene repeated itself a while later, when Clint woke. His promise was much simpler: without premise or pleasantries, he sat down beside Loki and said, "If the kid dies, I'll kill you."

When Loki had looked at him, he'd shrugged and said, "I think, after everything, I'm the one who most deserves the chance to shoot you in the face."

Fair enough, Loki supposed. But before he could respond, Barton left.

This conversation actually repeated itself a number of times; and in the end, it was really only Stark who didn't really catch on; or, if he did, he did not offer his support. But that much, at least, was expected; Stark had a history of refusing to play along with such deals.

At last, after hours of surgery, a doctor came out to give the news. By this point, the only people still in the waiting room were the Avengers, Tiff, and Benjamin. The latter had fallen asleep, as had Banner and Stark, but as the doctor came to speak with them, their surrounding fellows shook them awake. My mother and father both swallowed hard; they had been informed by Benjamin, and though they had arrived last of anyone, they had, in fact, arrived. Loki moved to the edge of his seat, closer to the doctor, looking up at him expectantly. He knew I wasn't dead, but other than that, he was still entirely in the dark.

The doctor smiled wearily at them all. But it died away quickly as he said, "She's stabilizing. We've gotten her out of critical condition, but… well, only time will tell." He looked, momentarily, just a little helpless; but he regained control in no time. "We should know by tomorrow morning."

Loki felt a tightness in his chest as everyone around nodded their understanding. He swallowed, tried to breathe, and stepped forwards, clearing his throat. "May I see her?" he asked, trying to sound meek and mortal and whatever these people expected.

The man looked the Trickster up and down, swiftly. His eyes softened. "I can let in one family member," he said, "But that's it. I'm sorry."

Immediately, the other Avengers all shrank back in their seats. Even Ben and Tiff settled back down. My father remained perched on the edge of his own chair, however, though my mother also sat back. Cameron and Loki exchanged a long glance.

"He's her fiancé," my mother said, gesturing to Loki before my father could stand. Holding Cameron's arm down, keeping him in his seat, she added, "He should go in first."

The doctor nodded and gestured for Loki to follow him. Immediately, he was on his feet and moving forward, walking after the other man. He heard Anna Rose and her husband arguing in hissing whispers, but he ignored it as he walked forwards.

"I should warn you," the doctor said sternly, "It was… a messy business. She's stabilizing for now, but… well, she's broken a few ribs, and her leg. She smashed up the side of her face pretty good, too." He looked at Loki, watching his reactions. Seeing no change in the intensity of the Trickster's eyes, he nodded slowly. "Just… be ready."

Loki nodded once as the doctor led him into the room. Immediately, his breath caught.

The sterile scent of hospital had been clogging his nose since he'd arrived; but now it washed over him again, the reek of cleanliness, the too-clean sheen of the walls and tiles around him. The continuous beeping of the monitors beside my bed set up an immediate, constant rhythm at the back of his skull. All of the injuries that he had seen earlier were swamped in gauze and bandaging; the bruises and the bleeding all covered in white. He could see the minutest rise and fall in my chest as I slept, an oxygen tube in my nose and about a million wires linked to all different places on my body. A plaster cast was already on my leg, propped upright, and Loki's hands started trembling again.

He'd seen a number of wounds in a number of wars. This was no worse than any of those; and so he stepped forwards, sitting in the chair directly next to the bed and taking the hand that was not linked up to the monitor that was watching my pulse. He pressed his lips to the back of my hand, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, the scent of my skin somehow piercing through the sterile, chemical smell of everything else.

The doctor waited for a moment, then, quietly, cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry to have to ask," he said, stepping forwards. Taking my other arm, he carefully lifted it, so that he could display the inside of my forearm, where the letters of my fiancé's name had been cut into my skin. "But, as these were never reported, and we have no record of them…" He trailed off, a little weakly, as Loki looked up to him. He said nothing.

"It was the old king, I take it?" the man asked, very quietly, before repeating, "I'm so sorry, we just have to confirm."

Loki looked down to the hand that he still held, then allowed his eyes to travel up my arm and to my face. The doctor was right; it _had_ been smashed up pretty badly. The entire side of my face was swollen, both eyes were black, and there was bruising all along my chin and jaw line. There was also a cut on my forehead, just like before, just like when Fraye had me the last time…

"No."

As the doctor looked to him, Loki looked back. "It was not the old king," he went on in a whisper. "It was Fraye."

The man sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting it whistle out of them in a sigh. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, carefully placing my arm back on the bed, tucking it next to my body. "He must've truly hated her," he said, shaking his head. "To give her to that… _thing._ " He smiled, very weakly, at Loki. "She must've been a fighter, eh?"

At this, Loki laughed. It was mirthless and cold and painful and cracking and dead and numb. "In more ways than you can know."

The doctor's weak smile strengthened just a little. And then he started to walk out, saying, "I'll give you some time alone, shall I?"

And then he left. Loki stared at my unconscious form and let out a heavy, exhausted sigh.

He planted himself firmly in the chair and pulled it closer to my bedside. Keeping my hand in his, his eyes on my face, he stayed where he was. Even when the doctors came to retrieve him, he stayed. Even when the _Avengers_ came to retrieve him, he stayed.

And he stayed, regardless of their words or their threats, at my side, until they finally gave up. Until they found it impossible to remove him and simply allowed him to remain where he was.

And he stayed, right beside me, as I slept.

* * *

One: pain.

Two: heavy. Everything felt heavy. My limbs, my head, my eyelids. All of it. So heavy that I couldn't move them.

Three: the sound of gentle breathing nearby.

Four: more pain. Not just in my side or on my face, but in my throat as well, which was dry and hot, like someone had poured desert sand inside of it.

Five: Heartbeat. Two of them. Two was good. Two meant okay.

Six: Memory. I groped at the thoughts inside of my head and tried to realize, tried to understand.

Seven: name.

What was mine?

Where was I?

My eyes opened. It took a long time, a fierce struggle, as my eyelids were even heavier than the rest of me. There was a soft glow nearby, like that of a night-light. For some reason, it was comforting; I didn't like the idea of waking up in the dark. I didn't know why, but I knew I didn't.

The person breathing beside me exhaled, and I turned to him before he inhaled again. I didn't recognize him- he was handsome, sure, with pale skin and dark hair, but I didn't _know_ him- but, for some reason, he felt right. I knew it was his dreams in my head. And having someone else's dreams in my mind, having their heartbeat shadowing mine… well, that was as natural as breathing. There was nothing wrong or different about that.

I reached forwards, as though to wake him from his slumber, but as I moved my arm, a horrendous pain stabbed through my entire body. I gasped in pain, pulling back and writhing. This hurt. Why did this hurt so bad? What had happened to me?

The man sleeping beside me stirred as I did, as I lay back, staring at the ceiling and gasping repeatedly. His head lifted from the bedside, and he looked to me groggily. But, as he caught sight of me, he immediately snapped awake.

"Natalie?" he asked, reaching forwards. His voice broke in relief.

I stared at him. Who was he? Where was I? I felt my own thoughts panicking and twisting and recoiling in my head. But I also felt his, soothing and calm, reaching inside of my mind and trying to cloak me in security, in serenity.

"Natalie…" he said, very quietly. "It's all right… it's me."

I stared at him, this man whom I had no name for, as a golden-green light swept across him. It was not unnatural, when this face dropped away and a new one took its place. It was just an illusion; another thing that was as natural as breathing. But this second face, the one he wore now, with its brilliant, beautiful green eyes and sharp cheekbones and long black hair, was also nameless to me.

"Who… Who…" I managed to rasp out. The man immediately hushed me, standing and moving to the other side of the room so that he could retrieve a glass of water. Holding it out to me and helping me sit up, he said, "Don't talk. It's all right."

So I didn't talk, not out loud. I talked in my head because I knew he would hear me, trying to suck the water down greedily but choking every time that I took more than a sip. His hand stayed on my back, holding me propped upright, as I asked, _Who are you?_

He was so startled by the question that he almost crushed the little paper cup that he'd given me; he was holding it while I tried to cough out the water that I'd choked on. Confused, I saw his eyebrows furrow; and his thoughts crept deeper into mine, scanning them, looking through them. After a moment, he seemed to understand. At first, his eyes were wide with panic; and then, some logical thought passed through his mind, and his eyes softened. Carefully leaning forwards to plant a kiss on my forehead, he responded, _I am you._

I swallowed, hard, taking another sip of water. _And who am I?_

He smiled weakly, wearily. _My fiancé._

For some reason, the sarcasm that came to my brain was, perhaps, even _more_ natural than breathing. Quirking an eyebrow at him, I said, _you must think very highly of yourself if you plan to_ _ **marry**_ _her._

He smiled, setting the paper cup back on the nightstand and letting me fall gently back onto the bed. Carefully retrieving a chair, pulling it closer to me, he said, _I admit I do._

I couldn't help but smile back. His smile was warm and sweet, though I knew it could be cold, knew it could be cruel. Taking my hand in both of his, he ran his fingers delicately across the damage there; it was half-hidden by bandages, but I could see the scars there, spelling out a word. As his fingertips traced them, he asked, _Shall I tell you who you are, Natalie?_ He asked quietly. His thumb gently ran across the 'L', tracing and re-tracing, again and again. _Or would you, perhaps, prefer to forget?_

I looked at him for a long time. It was clear in his eyes which one he would have preferred. And maybe that's what I would have preferred once, too. But in my brief time awake, I had realized one thing: I was in incredible pain; not just from my injuries, but from something else. Something deeper. And I didn't know why.

And, despite that pain… I was also happy. Filled with joy with even less of an idea as to why. And these emotions… they needed to be explained. My life needed to make sense. I needed to know who I was and who he was, this man whom I was supposed to be engaged to.

I didn't need to reply to his question. He sensed the answer in my thoughts. Chuckling softly, he said, _of course not._

And then his mind slipped into mine. It was only natural, to wrap my own thoughts around his, to allow our minds to merge. Mind and memory unlocked, thoughts and dreams, the two of our minds becoming one. Two halves of one whole, reuniting, as his memories began to fill in the blanks of mine.

And, where his memories touched, they began to stir old ones of mine; buried deep, hidden, broken, damaged recollections. Slowly, steadily, they came to life, glowing and quiet and alive; and though one or two remained faded, as memories could often be, soon, even the ones that he was not directly related to came back. Including the ones with Fraye. The memory of all those months of pain…

But in the end, I could never forget forever. After all; Loki's memories were my memories and vice versa. We could never forget. Not everything.

It was a long time after all of these memories returned that we allowed our minds to drift apart again. Moving in sync like that, being the same exact person for that brief amount of time… it had been a while since we'd done that. Since we'd allowed ourselves to be that; because usually, one of us was too far out of control to allow the other to slip into our emotional madness. As we separated, I kept Loki's hand in mine, carefully pulling it forwards, wincing as the movement made pain spike through me. But I'd been through worse pain. I could handle it.

As we disconnected, Loki turned away from me. His hand was still in mine, but his mind… his mind was on my scars. He could have let me forget them. Forget the pain. Forget everything. But he knew I wouldn't want that; and it was true. Regardless of that pain… it made me… _me._

I couldn't give it up. Even if I didn't really want to _be_ me anymore. I _had_ to be. Because if _I_ wasn't me, then who _would_ be?

I smiled, very sadly, at my fiancé. _Guess I lived, then._

He looked back to me as I leaned back, lying my head on the pillow and closing my eyes. _And at least we can cross 'amnesia' off of the list of things we have to worry about happening to one of us._

He didn't smile back. He didn't say anything. I glanced around the room, looking for the shapes of my friends, as though the Avengers would suddenly appear out of thin air because now I remembered them, remembered who they were. But it was just Loki and I, entirely alone, in a hospital room. The windows were dark, and I could see the silver crescent of a moon peering at me across the sky. The light I'd seen earlier had, indeed, come from a nightlight; Steve, I realized now, had brought it, after realizing that Loki was leaving all the lights on whenever the night came, knowing that I would not want to wake in darkness; but also despising the dark himself. Tony had gotten a kick out of the Norse god of Mischief needing a nightlight, until Loki had, offhandedly, made the shadows swarm around him in a chaotic blaze; a little reminder of what, exactly, the dark had put us all through.

Questions had been asked by a lot of people; the doctors had wanted to know a number of things. Not surprisingly, they were curious about the scars, though that was not their main query; after all, concerning events of previous months, it wasn't altogether unobvious who 'Loki' was and why he would do such a thing to a person.

No, their questions revolved around other things. Namely, the nanos; all of their tests had revealed freaky crap about my blood, and there had been a question of whether or not a blood transfusion would be _safe_ for me, and (for all those in the know) if it may dilute my abilities. Tony had been offended that anyone would think his tech would be so unhelpful, and had very firmly pronounced to anyone listening (and anyone with the clearance) that the nanos were self-replicating. Even if the number _was_ diluted by a transfusion, it would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.

And then there had been the Healers. It had been a huge political scene, trying to get them onto Earth, and if it hadn't been for Fury tricking the Council into allowing it, it probably would never have happened. The doctors had been pushed out of the 'need to know' category as the Healers did what they did best: they healed what injuries they could, speeding my recovery along its way.

Not that my bones weren't still broken, or that it didn't all still _hurt._ Because they totally were, and it totally did.

Loki seemed unsure of what to say. He wasn't the gooshy, romantic, candy-fluff type, but he didn't need to be. I knew how he felt about me, knew how frightened he was, when I had been so close to death. How angry he was at anything and everything that hindered him. I knew all of the things he had done while he waited for me to wake once again, knew all of the things that he had whispered to me while I slept; even if they were pure nonsense, even if he was reading from a book or muttering plans for Jotunheim under his breath. (After all, a person cannot stay in that state of stress forever; and I _had_ been asleep for almost two weeks).

But now… now he had nothing to say. He was just watching me, his fingers still steadily tracing across the letters on my arms. I watched him back, studied his green eyes, the dark circles beneath them, his pale face.

I swallowed. The movement didn't burn so badly after that drink of water, but my throat still felt thick, still hurt. Every bit of my body ached, even with the medicine that I knew was dripping into my IV, even if the Healers had numbed the pain as best they could. It all hurt. And, feeling this, my eyes began to well up with tears. It was almost a relief, to be able to cry again; but I'd forgotten what a nuisance tears were. Looking at Loki, I said, _I'm not okay, am I?_

It was a surprisingly weak question. I felt childlike as I asked it, felt very small. Loki's eyes tightened as I added, _I'm not all right._

He closed his eyes and took my fingers, bringing my hand up to his lips so that he could kiss it. He didn't open his eyes, didn't look up to me, just kept his lips pressed against my fingers, unmoving, silent, immobile. His head shook a fraction of an inch; but it seemed more of a denial of reality than a direct answer.

 _What Fraye did to me,_ I went on, and the tears burned their way out of my eyelids and down my cheeks. _All of this fear and pain and rage… it's not okay._ _ **I'm**_ _not okay._ My breath hitched, and I gulped down a sob, which made my ribs ache and shift in ways that they just shouldn't shift. Loki released my hand and reached forwards, running his hand up my arm.

"No," he ordered out loud, before returning to his mental voice. _No, Natalie, we don't need to talk about this now. You shouldn't talk about this now. You need to rest, to get better…_

 _Then_ _ **when?**_ I asked, feeling desperation creep into my thoughts and allowing it to do so. _When, if not now? Loki, this_ _ **isn't**_ _getting_ _ **better.**_ _I could have… I could have_ _ **died,**_ _Loki, I could've been_ _ **killed**_ _by this, by her!_ I took his hand in both of mine, ignoring the shooting pains that it sent through my body to move like that. Holding his hand tightly, I said, _It's not just me anymore, Loki. It's not just me who would get hurt if I died. And it's not just you. It's not just about… about_ _ **us**_ _anymore. We have a whole_ _ **planet**_ _to look after, a planet that_ _ **needs us.**_ _And if I had died… if I had died then you would've had one of the Avengers kill you and… and…_ Another sob. I grit my teeth against the pain but couldn't hold back the gasp of pain. Squeezing his hand ever tighter, as though I wanted to break his fingers, I carried on. _We can't afford this. We can't afford for me to… not be okay._ I looked him in the eyes- which were wide and a little bit frightened- and said, _It has to stop._

 _All right._

 _Now._

 _All right._

It didn't seem to be enough. It never seemed to be enough. And Loki didn't even seem to know what he was promising; though I could feel his thoughts, already beginning to turn, trying to determine what had to be done in order for this to stop. More tears squeezed out of my eyes. _And… and I can't… I can't die, Loki._ My hands were shaking now, and I held them against the bed, wrapping them up in the white sheets, in an effort to stop it. _I'm too… too_ _ **fragile.**_ _I'm supposed to be the queen of a_ _ **planet,**_ _here, and I get taken out by a hunk of metal? By a freaking_ _ **car?**_ _I'm powerful enough to destroy planets and I get_ _ **hit by a car?**_ I shook my head, violently, which made my face throb. _No._ _ **No.**_ _This sort of thing- Fraye, me, this 'mortality' thing- it just… has to stop. And… and if Puck is right, if there is a way to make me immortal, if… if…_ I gulped, another painful motion. Loki was staring at me by now, outright staring. _Then… then we have to_ _ **try.**_

 _If there's any chance…_ I gulped once more. _Any chance at all… we have to try._

He continued staring at me for a long few moments. I could feel his heart, beating just a little too fast, speed up even more. And, slowly, his shock began to melt away off of his features. His eyes became thoughtful, his entire face studious, as he contemplated this.

 _Very well,_ he said at last. I felt relief rush through me as his eyes flicked back to me. _Very well,_ he repeated. _We shall try. If you are willing to trust Puck with your fate… then undoubtedly it is for the best._ He nodded once, firmly. _When do you believe we should take this journey?_

 _Immediately._ I said, and when Loki lifted an eyebrow, looking over my injuries, I amended, _as soon as I'm better. The second I can walk and move and fight, we're out the door._

 _And Jotunheim?_

 _We'll have someone take care of it for us. You've been thinking of candidates who could take the throne after your death for days now; surely you've thought of one or two who can watch the crown for us for a few_ _ **months?**_

His lip curled wryly. _A few,_ he admitted. _One in particular comes to mind, however._

I nodded. I didn't need to ask who the 'one' was; even if I had really _wanted_ to know, I was confident enough in my assessment of Loki that I pretty much knew who he would pick. _Good,_ I said, as a combination of anxiety and relief went through me at the same time. _So we go alone. Just you, me, and Puck. If he_ _ **is**_ _the 'bad guy', we don't want to risk too many other lives._

Loki nodded back, slowly, thoughtfully. _We would have to postpone the wedding until our return…_

At this, immediate dismay struck me. _What?!_

I looked up to him, sitting bolt upright so quickly that I had to fall back on the bed and gasp a few times. Loki hovered by my shoulder worriedly as I did so, as I tried to regain my composure. _What… what do you mean?_ I asked, surprising even myself by how upset the idea made me. Hadn't I been so frightened of our wedding arriving so quickly? Hadn't I been the one who had continually postponed it? Why did it suddenly matter so much to me _now?_

 _It's only logical, Frost,_ Loki said, slowly and calmly. _You wish to leave as soon as you are capable; and you will be so long before our marriage comes to pass._ His head tilted to the side. _Or do you truly wish to wait for another six months before allowing yourself to leave the planet? Allowing yourself to leave all of the people whom you could hurt? All the people who could hurt you?_

I flinched. As usual, Loki had read me like a book; half of the reason I wanted to go- _needed_ to go- so quickly was because… well, I needed a break. I needed to be away from this, from _all_ of it, from Earth and Asgard and Jotunheim, from all the people who had brought me into this mess… I mean, obviously, I wanted Loki to tag along, but Loki didn't count; he _was_ me. I couldn't leave him behind on a planet that I wanted to have no contact with; it would force me to separate from _him_ ; and I obviously couldn't do _that._

But I _needed_ to be away from these people. From Tiff and Ben and Adrian and Jade and Vicky, sure, but more importantly, from the Avengers. I had to be _away_ from Tony, who had started it all, the first Avenger I had ever met. Away from him and his Tower that I had delivered pizza to.

I had to be _away_ from Bruce, the second Avenger I'd met, the ever-calm scientist who knew what it meant, to have a monster inside. The man who had been there when April had died and had told me how to fight back against the man who had destroyed her. Away from the Hulk, and the images that flashed through my head whenever I thought of him: green blood, shadows slipping out of his teeth, enormous hands that crushed the life out of hounds.

I had to be _away_ from Steve: the Captain that I had thought so kind and gentle, that I had immediately formed a bond with and eventually became distanced from. The soldier who could never understand the mechanisms of me, the spy. The man who, after Fraye, I could never relate to in the same way again; and yet, related to all the more at the same time.

I had to be _away_ from the spies: from Clint, who had offered to kill me before I had asked, who had done the same for Loki now. Who had seemed so frightening, at first; but was now marrying the woman that I tentatively called my best friend; tentatively only because I knew that, in most ways, she would never call me _hers._ From Natasha, from that woman who had also frightened me, whose first real conversation with me had ended in her _drugging_ me. From the woman that I now trusted with my life, trusted with _anything,_ but could not stay with now, because I saw myself in her eyes, I saw the torture and the blood, and every time I did, I shook with fear.

I even had to be away from _Thor;_ my happy-go-lucky, goody-two-shoes brother, soon-to-be-brother-in- _law,_ with his straightforward thinking and his simple mind and his humongous heart, who could smack a person in the face with a hammer and then go out drinking with his buddies the next day, never blinking, never looking back, never fearing. I had to be away from the man who had the innocence that I once did; the innocence that, somehow, I had lost along the years.

But above all… I had to be away from Earth. From the Tower that my best friend had died in. From the apartment that I only lived in because my first house had been burned down. From my parents house, where I had crashed after the battle, which held, perhaps, the worst memories of them all, for that was where I recovered, that was where it all ended; and the Tower was where it began. My two homes had been corrupted. My entire planet was awash with the stink of Fraye and what she had done, by giving Loki that deal, by making him that promise, by handing my world over to him and conquering it with shadow.

I had to be _away._

And Jotunheim… Asgard… these places were no better. I had memories of bleeding in all of these worlds, memories of the fear and the fury of the times. Going to the Jotuns, seeking an alliance. Meeting Kiross and Iecera, who were both now long dead at Fraye's hands. Going to Asgard to meet Loki for the first time; and sending my parents there, to keep them safe from Fraye. Meeting Shale, the Asgardian Healer, who was also dead now, also long lost. I had memories of blood and death and destruction on all of these worlds and it had to stop, it had to _end,_ I had to _run…_

For the sake of myself, yes… but for the sake of _everyone,_ now, I had to _run._

And it couldn't _wait_ six months. Not even for this, the most important moment of my life. Not even for my wedding.

A pit started to form in my stomach. _I don't…_ I said, then bit my lip. It hurt to do so, even worse than it should, because of the bruising, so I stopped. _I don't want to wait that long,_ I admitted. _We have to leave_ _ **soon,**_ _or there's no point. But…_ I twisted the sheets, picked at my nails, looked at my hands, did anything and everything I could to distract myself from the sight of Loki's face. _I don't want to… I mean, there's every chance that we could die on the way, you know? Even if Puck_ _ **is**_ _telling the truth, the Faden could decree that we're not what the universe needs. That we've done what good we can for the realms, for the universe, and our time is up. And the journey itself is supposed to be dangerous; even with our abilities… something could happen._ I swallowed, hard, and took a deep breath, trying to say what I wanted- and needed- to say.

 _And… I don't want to die, sure… but what I really don't want, what I_ _ **can't stand**_ _even_ _ **thinking**_ _of… is dying without… without you. Without having it out there, somewhere in the world, somewhere in our_ _ **universe,**_ _as something official. I don't want to die without being able to say that you're officially mine and I'm officially yours and we're officially husband and wife and there isn't a thing that anyone can do about it._

Throughout my little rant, Loki remained entirely silent. At last, he stood and, somehow exuding arrogance once again, he said, _then that shall have to happen._

He leaned forwards and kissed me, very gently, on the lips, avoiding my bruising with expert ease- it was always very easy for one of us to avoid hurting the other, if there was an injury on either- before pulling back again and standing upright. _There is a great deal to be done,_ he said, turning away and walking with his old, overconfident steps, striding to the door. As he reached it, he turned back to me and smirked, just lightly. _Get some rest, Frost. You need it._

My eyes widened, and I felt my heart skip a little. _You're leaving me here?_ I demanded. _Alone?_

He chuckled softly. _I never_ _ **leave**_ _you, Natalie,_ he reminded me slyly, tapping on his temple pointedly. _And I shall see you tomorrow._ As he turned away again, he added, _besides that, I highly doubt that you will find any motivation to stop talking and fall asleep, if_ _ **I**_ _am here._

And then he was gone, leaving me entirely stunned. For a little while, I huffed and well-I-never'd, but after a while, I realized that was pointless. Loki had effectively and neatly cut our minds off a bit; though, obviously, if I spoke directly to him or tried to get into his mind in any other way, the walls would come crumbling down. It was really more of a symbolic thing these days.

Besides, he was right; despite having slept all that time, I was still exhausted. I settled back on the pillows, wishing briefly that he'd remained behind to help me do so, then closed my eyes and started counting sheep in my head.

I got to five before I was out cold.

* * *

I _did_ see Loki the next day; though not for nearly as long as I would _like_ to have. Apparently, he was working double-time to make this wedding happen a number of months before we'd originally planned, which made me feel guilty, because he came back to me looking haggard and worn and exhausted and couldn't talk for more than a few minutes. When I tried to protest, to tell him to forget about it, that it wasn't such a big deal, anyway, he gave me a dangerously harsh glare until I shut up.

But we kept up a running dialogue with each other throughout the day nonetheless; he felt nervous, staying away from me for so long, after not having left my side for weeks. And, whenever I got bored, he immediately felt antsy, wondering if he should come over, wondering if he could leave Jotunheim now, if he could quell that boredom, since my other friends were clearly neglecting their jobs and not coming to see me…

But, thankfully, that didn't happen often. Mostly because my friends did anything _but_ neglect me. In fact, over the next few days, most of them swarmed. I hadn't noticed on the first night that I'd been awake, but there were get-well cards and flowers all over the room, taking out the harshness of the chemical scent that otherwise polluted the place (I guessed, after a while, that this was probably the reason that people brought flowers in the first place; because that sterile scent was _awful)_. There was also a boatload of chocolates, most sent by classmates who barely knew my name, but maybe had seen me around. People I hadn't seen in years had sent me cards and crap; which made me feel a little better about myself, I'll admit.

And then there were the visitors themselves; most of the time, my room had at least two people in it at one time. It started with my parents, who stayed for most of the day, talking about how frightened they were, about how they were so glad I was okay. My dad even admitted, quite grudgingly, that Loki had certainly pulled through with the Healers, before muttering under his breath that he was still an ass. My mother had glared, but I had grinned and said, "Well, no arguments here."

After the parents came the school friends, starting with Vicky and Jade, who were eventually bustled out by a bunch of burly, steely-eyed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They were taken completely by surprise by their appearance, but I was not. Politics were discussed and the discussion of my move into Jotunheim was brought up multiple times. Eventually, a doctor that the agents brought in themselves, a man who was full aware of everything, was told to look me over. I let him do so in silence, bored and falsely cheerful, until he finally finished his checks and told the agents, in no uncertain terms, that I was not to be moved.

"Oh, of course, she _can_ be," he'd said, "But she should _not_ be. And _certainly_ not through that _portal._ Do you have _any_ idea what that magic could do to her in this state?" he'd shook his head. "No. Leave her here and leave her be. Allow the Healers to do their work, and for the love of god, _get your agents out of her face."_

And then he had stalked out. I decided I liked him.

Of course, it was discussed that I should be moved, anyway; but the Healers said that they could continue their work here easily, entirely unhindered, and also asked that they could be allowed to do so without agents around to interfere. They had finally left, with promises that they would eventually return, but the Healers assured me that I would likely not be leaving this hospital until I was completely recovered; not even to return to the Healing Room, which I was strangely glad to hear.

When I confessed to them that I preferred it that way, one of the giants- who was cloaked in an illusion that made him appear as a (fairly tall, but not abnormally so) pale-skinned man with amber eyes- said, "And rightfully so, Lady Shadowslayer. We are not as well versed with Midgardian physiology as these… 'doctors' are, after all."

"Though we do our best," piped up an illusion-blonde Healer from the other side of the room.

"And it's more than enough," I said gratefully, which made them all leave with big grins.

After that came the Avengers. They'd tried to get in earlier, admittedly, but they had been coming almost every day for a while now, and their schedules had to be returning to normal at some point; so now it was a little more difficult. Still, they tried. I talked with them all about what had happened- Thor claimed that it was a battle worth telling about, which I thought was stretching things a bit- and told them about my plan to leave Earth when I was well. I'd decided not to make it into a big deal; but just to tell them all immediately. Most of them thought I was nuts, but Thor, Natasha and Clint all approved. Thor, actually, seemed absurdly happy about it. I guess he was thinking about not having to lose me eventually, like he would all of the other Avengers; but he was probably thinking more about Jane than he was me. If there was one way to make a person immortal, perhaps there were two.

Loki stayed with me that night, but we pretty much weren't able to talk; and the next day, he returned to Jotunheim, and I returned to my visitors; and to the crappy TV in the corner of the room with its six channels and horrible volume controls.

This pattern continued for a while, though the third day arrived with a bit of a shock; my aunt, one of the few people in my family who could not speak English at all, arrived with a boatload of little cousins. Okay, only three little cousins, but they made enough noise for NASA to hear, so the room kinda lost its calm-and-quiet atmosphere.

The boys leapt around the room, jabbering excitedly about this and that and video games and stuff, and I talked and laughed with them while my mother talked mostly with her sister. Amy, the littlest girl, sat on the bed next to me, while I scooted over to make room for her, and swept her in my arms to squeeze all the giggles out of her. I tried to ignore the dark color of her hair and eyes and focus instead on the tan overtones of her skin; she was nowhere near as pale as Fraye was. And her eyes and hair were _brown,_ not black. Fraye couldn't make me frightened of Amy. Not of my cousin, not my family.

I got a lot of other surprise visitors, too. Family from my dad's side that I hadn't seen in years; who had stuck around even after my father had left my mother, because, well, we _were_ still family. Other cousins. Other aunts and uncles. It was a right fiesta and I loved every second of it, even with the pain. For a while, I even managed to forget Fraye, and to forget that Loki wasn't beside me.

But the biggest shock of them all was when two people I hadn't seen in months walked through the door: Anita Blackthorn, April's mother, and Kevin Blackthorn; her uncle.

Things were awkward, at first, as they were bound to be. But I was beyond relieved to see that Anita was no longer as pale and worn as she used to be, as she was in the days after April's death. In fact, she had never looked more alive. I originally put it down to the fact that she and Kevin were holding hands as they walked in- she was finally seeing the _right_ brother, thank you very much- but eventually, shaking and nervous, she told me the real reason. Well, asked, really.

"I saw April," she said, with a trembling voice. She had such a hard time meeting my eyes, understandably enough. "After Loki's downfall. I saw April. She was in my living room and I thought… I thought it was a dream, or a hallucination, or _something…_ but then Kevin said he saw her, too, and I thought… maybe a ghost…?" She looked to me, frightened, as she lowered her voice and said, "Or was it something… you know. That… _magic_ stuff?"

I glanced to Kevin. Clearly, Anita had told him about those parts that _she_ knew about me and Loki. I nodded, once. "Yeah," I said, very quietly. "Yeah, that was us."

They both fell quiet, exchanging long glances. Finally, swallowing, I asked, "What did she say?"

Anita swallowed. "She told me that… I needed to keep going. That it wasn't just about me. That people needed me around." Here, she squeezed Kevin's hand. I looked to him.

"And did she say anything to you?" I prodded.

"Yeah," he said, looking weak and just a little bit grey. "She told me to 'be one with the cheese'."

When they left, Anita apologized for everything; even the fact that Loki had died- 'I knew he meant something to you, I suppose'- and Kevin closed the door behind her. I waited until they had gone a respectable distance away, and their footsteps had faded from hearing.

And then I laughed so hard that I ended up crying; and kept laughing until the nurse came in and told me off for disturbing my broken rib.

On the fourth day of my incarceration, I was starting to get supremely bored; but Loki was not able to return, not yet. Which was all right; I had given up on trying to bug him into coming back. He was determined to see this wedding through, which, I admit, gave me a few butterflies. It was exciting, really.

It was on this day, later in the afternoon, that they finally came. After days of avoiding me, now that I was awake, even though I knew that they had been there while I was asleep, Tiff and Benjamin finally showed up.

I knew that Loki had told Ben everything. It was both a relief and very frightening at the same time, knowing that this human was aware of all of my secrets. Of all the things that I had hidden from him for years.

On seeing him, I immediately tried to explain myself. To say that I had my reasons, that they were very _good_ reasons… but Benjamin wouldn't hear any of it.

Instead, he took the lead on the conversation. Sitting himself down on a chair, while Tiff did the same, he pulled something out from his book bag; a six pack. "I come bearing booze," he announced, "Except it's not really booze because alcohol is super not allowed in hospitals." He set the cans on the table next to me and pulled one out of the rings for each of us. "This is soda," he told us, tossing us each a can. Tiff and I both caught them with a scarily expert easiness. "But for now, it is booze, for we are going to play a drinking game. Clear enough?"

No. No, it wasn't clear at all. But then Ben sighed and, holding his hands in front of him, clasped together between his knees as he hunched over, he stared at the ground. "I'm really sick and tired of the lies. And, all right, I get it, you had to do it. I'm not so much of an asshole that I don't _understand_ where you're coming from. But now I've been introduced into your little circle of secrets and I haven't got a _clue_ what you still are and are not lying to me about. Now, you _know_ that I'm not going to tell anyone- and I had to sign some S.H.I.E.L.D. document saying that if I ever tell anyone anything, I'll be betraying my country, so there's _that-_ so I want that to end. Like, right now. Once and for all." He sat back, grabbed his soda, and popped the lid. Tiff followed his lead, warily, and I did the same.

"So here's what we're gonna do," he said firmly, but in a rush, like he was tripping over these words that he had rehearsed over and over again. "There's a drinking game, or a campfire game, or whatever, it's a game I've heard of. Seen it played a couple times. 'I Have Never'."

Immediately, I caught on. Swallowing hard, I looked to the soda, wondering what I had agreed to by popping its lid. But hey, it had to happen eventually, right? We had to hash this out. And, for some reason, I was calm enough to let it happen now. Because if I left for the Faden and didn't come back… well, then it never _would_ happen _._

Tiff seemed to understand, too, but Ben kept explaining. We had the feeling that he _needed_ to explain, so, by unspoken agreement, we allowed him to. "I don't know official rules, or even if there _are_ any. But here's how we're gonna do it: we go around the circle." He twirled his finger around clockwise, indicating each of us in turn. "One of us says, "I have never…" and then fill in the blank. It can be stupid. It can be serious. If you _have_ done it- even if you're the person who said it- you drink. If you haven't, you don't. And try to give a simple explanation as to why or why not. Simple enough, right?"

We nodded together. He seemed to calm down a little bit. "Okay, then," he said, in a slightly less intense voice. "Okay, then," he repeated. "I guess… I guess I'll go first."

Tiff and I exchanged a long glance. Then, bracing myself, I nodded at her. She nodded back, and the two of us turned to Ben together. He was staring at his soda.

"Okay," he said, one more time. Clearing his throat, he said, "I have never… broken a bone."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Really, Benny?" I asked, gesturing to myself; and to the leg that was still in a cast.

"Drink up, Natalia," Tiff chimed in cheerily, tipping back her own soda. I rolled my eyes and did the same. Ben did not.

"Comes with the territory," Tiff told Ben with a shrug. "Broken bones are nothing new."

"And cars really hate my guts," I added.

"Yeah, well," Ben swallowed. "Never had the opportunity." He turned to his girlfriend. "You're next, Tiff."

She considered. "I have never gotten drop-dead drunk at a party."

I didn't take a drink of soda. Ben did, and I giggled. "I remember that."

"You _caused_ that," he grumbled.

Tiff, too, refrained from tipping back her own soda. "You're not supposed to," she admitted. "I've been an agent for a long time; and we can let ourselves get intoxicated, but most of the parties I go to… I'm usually undercover. So I can't."

"And I don't drink alcohol," I added.

We were quiet for a long moment. Then, Tiff said, "You next, Natalia."

I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with her calling me by her old nickname yet. But I let it slide, for now, and thought of something to say. After a moment, I had it. "I have never watched a single James Bond movie."

"Oh, screw you," Ben exclaimed, setting his can aside without drinking. I grinned wickedly at him; it was a point of much anxiety for him, that he had missed out on such franchises. James Bond, Indiana Jones, and the Matrix: all movies that he had missed out on.

But Tiff set her can aside, too. "Spies hate spy movies," she admitted. "Unless they view them as comedies, and I hate having people giggling through all the serious stuff. So I've never had a chance, really."

I lifted an eyebrow, but took a drink. I'd seen two. I understood the whole spies-hating-spy-movies thing; it got ridiculous, sometimes.

Ben took a long time considering his next question. Or rather, when he asked it, I realized that he'd spent that long time wondering if he _should_ ask it. "I've never… told someone that I loved them."

Immediately, I felt like an intruder to the situation. I took a sip, quickly, as did Tiff and Ben themselves. I tried to study my can. Of course he would bring up the heavy stuff immediately. Why not? That was why we'd done this in the first place.

When all was quiet for a while, Tiff said, "I've never meant it."

I swallowed. Hard. But I remained silent as Ben and I both drank. As Tiff did not.

Her eyes went to the window and stayed there. They were just a little too glassy, and I felt something wrench in my gut. Pity washed through me. Of course she would have said 'I love you'. And of course, many times, she wouldn't have meant it. But I hadn't expected… I didn't think that she'd _never_ been in love before.

It was a long moment before I had my 'I have never'. Clearing my throat and piecing my words together carefully, I said, "I have never _wanted_ to say I love you-and meant it-" as both of them looked ready to drink, I added, "To someone in this room." When Ben looked at me harshly, and seemed ready to drink anyway, I added, with much sarcasm, "Who is _not_ named 'Natalie Frost'."

No one moved. I raised an eyebrow at them both, a dignified arch, and said, "Well? We're all adults here. Now answer the question with the soda that we are pretending is booze."

Let's just say that the irony of the situation had not missed me.

Tiff stared at her soda can. Her eyes were welling up with tears, but she was, somehow, keeping them back. Taking a deep breath, she took a large gulp of her soda. Looking to Benjamin with an almost defiant expression, she waited until, as predicted, he did as well.

"Well then," I said primly. "Someone needs to kiss and make up."

"It's not that simple, Natalie," Benjamin muttered.

"I kinda think it is."

"Is it?" Ben snarled, his temper flaring in seconds. That was rare, Ben with a temper, and it made me jump. "All right then: 'I have never slept with someone I didn't love'."

The tears fell out of Tiff's eyes and splashed on the can, little _plinks_ on the tin.

"Ben, please-" She almost begged. Pity stirred at my heart again.

"No. No, Tiff. We're supposed to be honest here, right?" He looked almost crazed. "So go on. I have never." He shoved the can aside. "What about you?"

I set the can down and tried to bite my tongue. I wanted to throttle the boy, but I understood it. I understood why this would cause him pain; not just her.

"You acted like a 'party girl'," he said, in an increasingly panicked, increasingly terse voice. "You were always flirting with- and all but seducing- all of the guys in school. I assume that's your 'cover' in most places." He glared at the ground now, unable to look at her. "But if I'd so much as _kiss_ you on the _cheek_ and we weren't in public, you'd freak out."

"You were different," she said, in a weak voice. "I didn't… Ben, I didn't want to… to do that to you. When I knew that… that I'd have to leave you. That I'd have to hurt you." She looked down. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Like all those other guys?"

She didn't respond.

"Look," I snapped at Ben. "That's what spies _do._ They don't like it, they don't want it, but it comes with the turf. They _have_ to."

"Then maybe _I_ don't want to be in love with a _spy!"_ He snapped back, his temper seeming to flare. Tiff was shaking her head violently, her red curls bouncing.

"Don't you _get it yet?"_ She shouted. Immediately, Ben and I shut up. We looked to her in shock. It was so rare, to hear Tiff yelling, to hear her raise her voice above a conversational volume.

"Don't you _get it?"_ She reiterated. The Shadow Crow's cheeks were stained with tears. "I didn't _want this!_ They pulled me in when I was a stupid kid, they made me go on missions, they let me have my fun with guns and explosions and adrenaline, but by the time… by the time I finally realized what _bullshit_ it all was, by the time I realized that I wanted _out…_ I couldn't! Because I've got people on my tail, people who want me _dead,_ and if I leave S.H.I.E.L.D… I lose whatever protection I _have!_ " She threw up her hands. "So I do what I can, all right? I try to help my country, protect it, do what I have to in order to do the right thing, but sometimes… sometimes you just _can't!_ And sometimes…" She looked at us both, surprisingly helpless.

And then she grabbed the can. "Sometimes it happens!" She shrieked, then took a drink. "Then it happens again!" She shouted, taking another drink. "And again!" Another drink. "And again and again and again!" One long gulp before she slammed the can down. All of my lingering animosity towards her washed away in that second; because I could see, now. I could see how scared she was. I could see what she'd been forced to do. And I could see the bravery inside of Tiffiana Lively, as she confessed all of these terrible things to someone that she could maybe, just maybe, care about. I'd been there. I'd done that. And it was the most terrifying moment of your life. "Yes, _Benjamin Osner,_ I've slept with other guys! Guys I didn't give a _shit_ about! But you know who might thank me for doing it? Those people who didn't get _shot_ by terrorists because of me! That little diplomat's daughter that I found in the basement of that one dude's mansion! Those people who would have _died_ if I hadn't removed _alien freaking tech_ from the far house at the end of their _street!_ Those people who _don't even know I exist!_ "

She was panting by now. Ben and I both were staring at her, completely blown away. "And I _knew!"_ She went on shouting. "I _knew_ that this mission was _crap_ from the moment I met Natalie! I _knew_ that this was the wrong thing, but I did it _anyway,_ because I had my orders, because that's what I was _supposed to do!_ And I found a guy and I established my cover and I _did what I freaking had to do!_ And in the end, I fell in love with you, okay? I'll say it! _I love you!_ But, apparently, that doesn't _matter,_ because I'm not freaking _perfect!_ So you know what- _you know what?"_ She picked up her soda can. Her eyes were wild and almost feral, a lioness with red-brown hair. "Let's just bring it all up! Let's dig up all this _shit!_ Let's bring it out in the open, let's display my crimes for all to see!" Holding the can up as though in a toast, she announced, "I have never killed someone!"

And then she put the can up to her lips and gulped down every last drop of soda inside. When she finished, she flung the empty tin down onto the floor, let it clatter into the corner of the room. The noise shattered the room into silence for a long time, with the only sound being Tiff's still-heavy breathing.

And then she fell back onto her chair and buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly.

Ben looked to me. I looked to Ben. And then, carefully, I took a drink.

Benjamin Osner, the Message Runner, stared at the can on the floor for the longest time. He continued to stare until, at last, Tiff pulled her hands away from her face and glared around at us both. He kept staring long after that.

And then he lifted the can to his lips and took a long, slow, steady drink.

 _No,_ I thought, the second I saw this. The second I realized what it meant. _Not Benny._

Not Benny. Not relaxed, laid-back Benny. Not kind, sweet, gentle Benny. Not the Benny who had asked me out and smiled when I turned him down. Not awkward, bumbling, but somehow never shy Benny. Not the Benny I had hung out with in high school, who knew April and who April liked. Anyone but Benny.

But war makes monsters out of us all.

He set his can down on the little table next to my bed. Folding his hands and looking down to the floor, he said, "I was carrying a message out to the Frosts. If I didn't get it there… a lot of people could've died." He swallowed, hard. "But I had a tail. And… and I couldn't shake them. So I waited for them in an alley, and I knocked them both unconscious." He tugged the collar of his shirt, as though it were starting to choke him. His eyes still didn't meet either of ours. "Except… one guy… well, he hit the wall too hard. And when he went down… there was blood everywhere." He sat back in his seat. "I gave the message to your mother"- he inclined his head to me without even looking in my direction- "and told her what happened. She said it had to be done and not to blame myself." He smiled, so weakly, and said, "And all I could think to say in response was, 'How could I blame myself? He was the idiot who couldn't stay on his feet.'"

The world was entirely silent. It made sense, of course- everyone in the rebellion had been damaged in one way or another- but it still felt… wrong, to know this. To know that Benjamin Osner- _my Benny-_ had taken a human life.

And, sitting there, I said the only thing I could think to say. "The world was a dark, shadowy place." I took a drink of soda that had nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with my dried-out throat. "What else can it breed, but dark, shadowy people?"

When no one responded, I pulled a can off of the six pack that was still on the table. Tossing it to Tiff, I waited until she had cracked it open. Then I swallowed and said the only thing that I could. "I have never tortured someone."

Tiff looked up to me, and our eyes met. It was a long, weighted exchange that passed between us, spoken using nothing but the expressions on our faces, a conversation which, momentarily, excluded Ben. But then she glanced to him, a quick, flitting look, and I did the same, and we looked down to our cans. Almost in unison, we drank.

Ben, thankfully, did not. He held the can in his lap and stared at it. His face looked pale, but he didn't seem confused or upset. Just… tired, maybe. Closing his eyes, he said, "I have never _been_ tortured."

The Shadow Crow drank, as did the Shadowslayer. The Message Runner did not. His eyes went to- and stayed on- Tiff. He'd already known what I'd been through; he'd seen my scars, he'd known that for a long time, even before Loki had told him everything. But it was very clear that this, that what had happened to Tiff, was news to him.

The spy stared at her hands, at the hospital bed, at the walls, at whatever she could for a long time. She didn't ask a question, didn't voice an 'I have never'. Instead, she said again, "It… it comes with the territory, y'know?"

She drank some soda, as though wishing that it really _was_ alcohol, as though wishing that she could wash away everything, burn out the memories. But, at last, she looked up to us. She didn't seem to have anything more to say, so I set the can aside. "I guess we're finished with the games, here."

No one seemed to have any objections, and so, after a moment, the other two set their own soda cans aside as well. For a long time, no one seemed able to speak. I was very aware of how much of an intruder I was on this scene, but I couldn't help but want to meddle in it, anyway, the shrink in me trying to think of the right thing to say, the right way to counsel this particular couple.

So, pressing my fingertips together and peering over my hands at the people that I called my 'friends', I told them, "I think everyone here can agree that no one is perfect. The question is, can we forget everyone else's imperfections?"

The two looked to me. I looked back, eyes hard. Settling back on my pillows and focusing on making my ribs numb, as they had started to ache, I promised, "I'm willing if you are."

The two looked at each other, then to me, then back at each other. Tiff's hand clenched in a fist, and she stuffed it into her sweater pocket to conceal it.

"I'm a spy, Benji," she said, in a soft voice, turning away from him. "I'm always going to be a spy. There's a lot of problems to go around, okay?" Here, she looked up at me. I nodded at her, tightly, and she nodded back. In that gesture, I knew; all crimes between the two of us were forgiven and forgotten. Tiff and I were good. We were friends once again, with nothing in our way. And then she turned back to Ben. "But I'd like to go on living my life knowing… knowing that there is one thing… one person out there in the universe… that I didn't screw up beyond repair. And if that means that you and I… that _we_ have to be… finished? I'll go. I'll go and never come back. If you can't live with this, with me, if you can't forgive me and accept me for _what I am…_ then I don't want you to try to. I don't want you to… _force_ yourself to try and do that just because you think it's… the _right thing,_ or what you _should_ do. If you can't do it… if you can't accept me… don't. Just tell me that you can't." She shrugged, a little helplessly. "And I'll go. You'll never see me again."

There was no doubting that this was the truth. Tiff could vanish from Ben's life a lot better than a lot of other people could, I was sure. And now that I had discovered her, she wasn't much use to S.H.I.E.L.D. here, anyway; the only reason she was still here at all was because she was the only spy that I allowed within fifty feet of me (besides Natasha). She wasn't their most _valuable_ asset while she was here, but she was an asset nonetheless.

Ben looked at her for a long time. Then he sighed, heavily, exhaustedly. "No." he mumbled. "No, I don't want you to leave, Tiff. I've never _wanted_ that." He looked up, blinking a few times, trying to get his thoughts straight in his head. "I guess… I'm just… imperfect enough. You know? Imperfect enough that… I'm having a hard time… getting _used_ to this."

She didn't respond. She sat, immobile, and stared back at him. Then she looked away, biting her lip, which was painted with its usual red-orange hue.

"Can you understand that?" Ben asked at last, looking back up at her. "Please? Can you understand that… I want to try, but… I can't give you any guarantees?"

There was silence for a moment as Tiff looked back at her boyfriend. And then, unexpectedly, she smiled. It was wry, a sweet and sad and sarcastic little smirk.

"I'm a _spy,_ Benji," she said. "There's no such thing as a 'guarantee'."

The room went silent. I looked between Ben and Tiff, Tiff and Ben, trying to determine what the atmosphere in the room had become now, trying to figure out what would happen next.

And then Ben smiled. He leaned back, seeming to force himself to relax, shrugged in a ' _what-can-you-do?'_ sort ofway and said, "Well alright, then."

We were all quiet for a moment. No more looks were exchanged between Tiff and I; she kept her eyes locked solely on Benny. And then, at last, she smiled wearily back.

Taking her can, she held it up and said, "I have never celebrated a birthday."

And suddenly… the games began again. And in that second, the atmosphere relaxed, and the three of us were… friends.

The drinking game continued. Bad points were brought up and harsh words were exchanged… but they always mellowed out towards the end. And, when Ben and Tiff left for the day- smiling and laughing, my best 'normal' friends- they were holding hands.

 _All in all,_ I thought to myself, _today worked out._

* * *

Physical therapy was a bitch.

I'd lost count of the days I'd been in the hospital; it could've been weeks by this point. I was sick and tired of the same four walls, even with the flowers and cards still decorating the place. All of the chocolates had been eaten, mostly by me, and I'd exhausted the re-runs that played, over and over, on my crappy TV. I was going stir-crazy by the time the Healers announced that the doctors were going to give me physical therapy today, and I thought that it would come as a welcome change of pace.

Yeah, give _that_ up.

"Okay, Natalie, slowly, _slowly…"_ The doctor told me, as I inched my way along, _with_ the support of my boyfriend, who had stayed behind today, knowing that this was going to happen. I tried to stifle a groan.

"If I move any slower, I'll be going backwards," I muttered under my breath to Loki. He didn't respond. His main focus right now was on not letting me fall to the floor.

The cast had come off recently, and they'd pretty much wanted me moving immediately. The doctors were all amazed and awestruck at how quickly my bones had knit back together, but they were kept quiet about it under order of S.H.I.E.L.D. They had all long ago learned to stop asking questions from me. They had also stopped trying to remove 'Lawrence' from wherever he wanted to be; and so were shutting up right now, even as he did a job that a nurse was probably supposed to be doing.

I made my way at a crawling, snail's pace over to the other end of the room. There were rails on either side of me, and I walked across with stuttering, lumbering steps. My leg did not want to respond like it should have, which kinda ticked me off. I wanted to be able to _run,_ dammit, I wanted to be able to _fight._

Loki sensed these thoughts, and whispered in my ear, "In time, Frost. Just give it time."

I watched him, from the corner of my eye. He was looking as tired as ever; these wedding plans were still really taking it out of him. But, no matter how many times I told him to forget about it, he refused; and so, eventually, I let him have it. Truth be told, these injuries were stirring a lot of the old guilt inside of him; and he'd found a way to blame himself for them (After all, if he'd never given me to Fraye, I never would have seen her there, and I wouldn't have run into that street). So, really, the more time he was away, the more time he was distracted from it, the less time he had to allow his thoughts to go down that dangerous path.

Dr. Barkley waited for me at the other end of the room, and when I finally made it over to him, he gave me a large grin and congratulated me. "Very good, Miss Frost!" he exclaimed. "Take a rest for a moment, that's it, we'll resume in a few minutes. That's it, catch your breath…"

I was winded. I was winded from walking across the freaking room. This was a nightmare.

I sat down, Loki sitting beside me, still in the guise of 'Lawrence.' It had taken a little while, but I'd finally gotten used to those features- the pale skin and dark eyes, the dark hair that always looked kinda windswept- and though Loki wouldn't admit it, it made him very happy that I had. It was just a little reassurance; it truly didn't matter what he looked like-human, Asgardian, or Jotun- it was the personality behind the face, the expressions on his features rather than the features themselves, that I'd fallen in love with. That, even with _this_ illusion… he was still my Loki.

He looked to me in concern, hovering in his usual, nigh overprotective way, as I held my chest and tried to gulp down air. My ribs still hurt, though they had healed by now as well, and it made it difficult to suck in air. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine," I answered between breaths. "I'm… I'm fine."

He gave me that 'I'm not sure if I believe you' look of his, but he didn't say anything to contradict me. Instead, he allowed me to rest, to catch my breath again. I leaned my head back and waited until my heart rate fell into its steady norm again.

I was ready for another go around the room, but Dr. Barkley insisted that I take a few more minutes; so Loki and I sat next to each other while I stared down the path that I would have to walk across once again.

After another minute of this, Loki decided it best if he took my mind off of the physical therapy for a bit, and so to distract me, he said, "I've spoken with Natasha about your dress. I assume you wish to follow with human custom in regards to that; so I have removed myself from those proceedings."

Well, at least he knew how _best_ to distract me; because, even knowing that it was a diversion from the world around me, I couldn't resist taking the bait. With every day that I grew better, the wedding day grew closer; and, with all of the plans constantly circling about in Loki's head, it was making me positively jittery with anticipation. "Yeah, she mentioned something about coming over later with a magazine," I responded. "We can't exactly walk into the bridal shop with me all messed up like this. And I'll have to choose her dress, too…" I sighed, shaking my head out. "Fun."

He smirked just a little. "Having second doubts?"

"Not about that," I answered resolutely. "A few about what follows, though." As he looked to me quizzically, I added, "Well, we're pretty much spending our honeymoon on a dangerous journey towards a bunch of insanely powerful people that may or may not exist, following the word of a half-breed former slave that we more than have reason not to trust. I'm not exactly brimming with confidence."

He shrugged mildly. "It was your wish to do this, Frost."

"It was yours, too," I reminded him, not letting him get out of it that easily. "I was just the first person to properly acknowledge the fact that this is all we've got." I watched Dr. Barkley as he scribbled a few notes on his clipboard.

"I just…" I gnawed on my lip for a moment. "I wish there was some way… that we could know for _sure,_ y'know? Someone else we could ask that could verify that yes, the Faden exist, it's worth it, you're not sticking your neck out on the line for nothing. Something that would _prove_ it, once and for all."

Loki considered that. And then, with the sigh and slight slump of the shoulders that usually accompanied all of his resignations to defeat, he said, "Quite frankly, Frost, I haven't the slightest idea of how we could go about verifying it. Puck is the only person I've ever met who claims to know them; and, frankly, Natasha trusts Puck." He looked to me. "That is typically all _you_ need."

"Typically," I agreed. "But not always. And not… not for something this big." I twisted my hands. Actually, I knew _exactly_ who would know, _exactly_ what I would have to do to meet them, to talk to them, to prove it to myself that this was worth it. But I didn't dare mention it. Not just yet. Not before I had sufficiently appealed to his sense of reason and logic. "I mean, I don't like it. I don't like leaving Jotunheim and Earth unprotected. Earth could probably survive without us- it's got the Avengers watching out for it- but Jotunheim is… unstable. There have been a few major power shifts over the last years, and while I'm sure it would _survive_ if we left it for a while… I'd just like to make sure that our leaving is actually… _necessary._ "

His eyebrows furrowed. It was a very familiar gesture on this stranger's face. "And what would you suggest?"

I bit my lip again, harder this time, so that it stung a little. "You won't like it," I admitted.

Immediately, his entire form shifted into caution. He eyed me warily, his body language closing up a little- hands moving closer to his body, spine becoming more rigid- as I pulled my idea to the forefront of my mind, where he could see it as clearly as I did.

For the longest of moments, he was absolutely silent. Doctor Barkley called us up again, saying that I could probably risk it now. He was ignored for the time being, as I held my hand up to indicate that I would need another minute. He seemed to nod knowingly, like he had been aware from the beginning that I was just acting tough, when really, I actually _was_ pretty tough, thank you very much.

Loki's lips mashed into a hard line, pressed together hard. I wasn't looking at him anymore- I was turned to the doctor, still waving him off- and his hand abruptly shot out, gripping my chin tightly as he turned my head to him, a little more roughly than was strictly necessary.

It was through both his teeth and his tight throat that Loki managed to speak, forcing the words out as though each one was a physical pain to him. " _Are-you-out-of-your-mortal-_ _ **mind**_ _, Frost?_ "

I stared back up at him, resolutely and serenely. "Given the hallucinations that I've been experiencing lately, I would say yes."

His fingers tightened just a little on my chin. His illusion-dark eyes burned so brightly that I could see hints of green beginning to seep through. His voice a spitting whisper, he told me, "That isn't _funny._ "

"It wasn't meant to be."

He released me with a small grunt of disgust. I stood carefully, and he automatically stood as well, helping me move forwards again. We took the walk down and back across the room once again, just to get the doctor to shut up… but all the while, Loki seethed.

"I won't do it, Frost," he hissed to me when we were finally seated again. And, yet again, I was out of breath. "And you'll have a very difficult time finding a Jotun mage who _will_."

"Then I'll ask an Asgardian one," I replied, calmly but coolly, keeping a level head and tone.

He gave me a poisonous look in reply. "You'll be hard-pressed to find one of _them_ , either. Even Thor would not be so recklessly stupid as to-"

And then he shut himself up because he realized it wasn't true. Stiffening, he straightened upright in his seat. "Regardless, Thor is not a mage. He cannot activate Elliroth anymore than I could wield Mjolnir."

"But he is in command of other mages," I answered, simply enough. "And he might help me, if I asked."

"And _why_ would you _ask?_ " Loki demanded. Our voices were lowered so that the conversation was kept between the two of us, but his words were beginning to rise into dangerously loud levels. A sneer was curled on his lip. "Why would you do something so utterly _idiotic?_ I thought _you,_ of _all_ people, would know better than to ask _her-!"_

"She's dead," I replied tonelessly. "Elliroth can show us Fraye temporarily, but she'd just be an echo. She wouldn't have her magic. She'd be powerless to hurt us. And- oh yeah- she'd still be _dead._ "

He gripped my wrist, shoving my sleeve up so that the scars on my forearm showed, stark red, in the light of day. Or, rather, the light of the hospital. "After _this,_ Frost?" he demanded. "After this _accident_ that you are _even now,_ _ **as we speak,**_ undergoing _treatment for?_ Can you _truly_ look me in the eye and tell me that _this is the right thing to do?"_

"It's a grey area," I admitted in a mumble, yanking my arm back from him so that I could conceal the scars again. "But if it meant that we had one more voice saying that the 'Fates' are real… one more person saying that it's possible- maybe even _plausible-_ for me to become immortal… It'd be worth it." I turned away. "We could let her do one good deed…"

"And what makes you so entirely certain that she _would?_ "

"Because we gave her what she wanted. We ended it for her." I looked away from him. "That's what she created us for, isn't it? That's why she separated us, why she made us hate her so much. If she couldn't get us to hear the same silence that she was, then she wanted us to try and kill her. And we did. We ended it. And now… now, maybe, she can help us."

He didn't respond this time. Instead, he fumed, staring off at Dr. Barkley.

"She's our best chance," I added, very quietly. "She's been to more planets, more galaxies… more _universes_ than everyone in the realms combined."

"And destroyed many of them," Loki added shortly.

"But if these 'Fates' really are the 'Sentries of Time'… if they're really working in the best interest of the universe… then they undoubtedly would have seen her. Would have taken notice of her and everything she was doing." I looked down, twisting my hands in my lap. "So maybe she saw them, too. It only makes sense."

"It does," he admitted. "But you hardly need to convince _me_ of this; after all, you already seem to have decided that this is what you are going to do. You do not need _my_ opinion."

He sounded unbearably hurt, which all at once frustrated me and sent sympathy spiking through me. I immediately gripped his arm. "Don't think that way," I ordered. "You know that's not true. I want you to help me with this, Loki."

"Do you?" He asked acidly. "Do you really?"

" _Yes._ I _do._ Because… because I know that this is the right thing- or at least the _smart_ thing- to do. But I can't… I can't see her again, Loki. Not without you. I can't."

He didn't respond for quite a while. In fact, we ended up walking back and forth through the room once again before he finally said, "Well, Miss Frost, I'm afraid that you will have to. Because I will not see Fraye at all."

The reply wasn't exactly unexpected, so I stifled my sigh, my feelings of hurt. He already knew- I'd already told him- that I wouldn't want to confront Fraye, even a washed-out illusion of Fraye, without him by my side. And in refusing to be there… he knew that it decreased my chances of going through with it, of finding some Asgardian who would be willing to help me and asking that nightmare a question that she may or may not answer honestly…

I didn't hold it against him, though. I might have, if his only motivation for refusing was to keep me from doing something he didn't want me to do. But he had other motivations as well; the highest of which being that he could not stand the very sight of Fraye, still moving, still walking around, still alive, even if she was just… _pretending._

But Fraye had always been pretending to be alive, from the very moment that we met her. And now… now I was seeing her, anyway, even without Elliroth's help. At least the echo of her couldn't hurt me; not like the version in my head did.

Resolving to figure out my next steps at a later time, when Loki was not looking _quite_ so murderous, I tucked the thoughts into the back of my head and carried on walking aimlessly, back and forth, across the room.

* * *

Loki was asleep in the chair next to me while Natasha and I made our final decisions on the dresses. He'd been asleep since she'd gotten here; he'd been working almost non-stop, both with his usual duties on the throne, and our wedding plans. It was exhausting him, trying to cram in about six months of work into such a short time, but he was carrying through it with a stubbornness that I had learned to expect from him; and a stubbornness that I had stopped trying to talk him out of a long time ago.

Though I truly _did_ wish that he would take it down a notch and just… _relax._ He was trying to be in a thousand places at once- succeeding, on occasion; illusionary doubles had their advantages- and it was driving him to the point of exhaustion. He was starting to _wake up_ tired. And whenever he visited me, he usually just ended up falling asleep in the chair. I let him, of course; he was driving me crazy with worry. I didn't like him feeling like this.

Not for the first time, Natasha eyed the sleeping form of my husband-to-be. She carefully set down the catalogue. I would probably not have a chance to get my dress tailored, but Natasha knew my measurements; and she knew how to fix the dress a little, if need be. She could help out with that part.

I looked at her as she studied Loki. "He's been like that for days," I admitted.

"I'd noticed."

Of course she had. My eyes flitted to the door briefly, then I lowered my voice. "You know, if you still want me to be your maid of honor… we'll have to find some way to fit it in before I leave. I mean, you could wait until I came back… but there's no guarantees, y'know?"

"I know," Her eyebrows furrowed. "I believe I may have to rescind my previous offer."

I'd figured as much, so I just shrugged. "It's ok with me. I just… I would've liked to be there." I smiled, a little sadly. "But I get it. Timing isn't great."

She nodded, trying to give me a little bit of a sympathetic look, as though she thought I needed it. As though she had to cater to my emotions, like I was another one of her marks… I gave her a look in return until she stopped.

"I'm glad you asked, though," I said, very quietly. "I…" I swallowed hard, forcing the words out through a dry throat. "I'm glad that, maybe… you might think of me as a friend."

"You still doubt that?"

I shrugged, smiling weakly. "I dunno. I just…"

"Don't think that highly of yourself?" She asked wryly.

"Pretty much."

"You shouldn't doubt yourself so much, Natalie," She said, very quietly. "You are an Avenger. You are our friend." She squeezed my arm softly. "And… you are _my_ friend."

I smiled back at her as she stood, sliding the catalogue into the purse that I knew held nothing of great value, just in case it was stolen. She nodded to me, quickly, then glanced to Loki again, as though expecting him to wake up. "I'll see you tomorrow," She promised as she turned.

"I'll be here," I joked, gesturing to my still-pretty-much-useless-leg.

She left the room. As she did, outside of my sight, she turned a hallway, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She pressed a number on speed dial and held it up to her ear.

After a moment, the reply came. "'Lo?"

"Clint."

"Hey, Nat."

"Gather the Avengers. We have something to discuss."

"An emergency?"

"Not as such."

There was a pause. Then, "Is this about what you were saying yesterday?"

"Affirmative."

"Right. I'll get everyone together. See you in twenty."

She turned the phone off and slid it back into her pocket.

* * *

It happened about a week later. I was still having a bit of a hard time walking, but it wasn't nearly as bad anymore. The doctors were still wondering at my amazing recovery time, and I was to be released from the hospital soon. It was about noon-ish; and I'd convinced Loki to take the rest of the day off. But it was only at the Avengers' behest that he finally agreed; apparently, they had something to discuss with us.

The two of us talked for a while. Loki was a little sick of talking about the wedding, so I steered clear of that topic as well as I could; and steered clear of my still-in-place plans to see Fraye in the Chamber of Elliroth. I even refrained from discussing the fact that he'd gone behind my back to tell Thor _not_ to allow it to happen; and that I only knew this because I had gone behind Loki's back to ask Thor for help. He'd refused, of course, going along with what his brother said; but I wasn't deterred in the slightest. I'd find someone. I didn't know who, but I'd figure it out.

So instead, Loki and I were discussing other things; mainly travel plans. And we were disagreeing over a very important detail.

"It should just be us and Puck," I said, stubbornly. "I don't want anyone else getting involved in this."

"Well, we can hardly tell him to stay behind," Loki pointed out. "Fenrir is a rogue from his planet. A traveler and a wanderer by nature. If he wishes to come with us… I do not see how we could _stop_ him."

I shook my head. "I don't _trust_ him, Loki. He broke into my parent's _house,_ remember?"

He scowled. "We do not know if that was him, Frost."

"We kinda do, Laufeyson."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If this _was_ the case, then would it not be better if he _did_ come with us? At the very least, then we could keep our eye on him. He wouldn't be a threat to your parents if he was on another world with us."

I opened my mouth to make a counterargument… then shut it. Because, well, that was a pretty valid point. I contemplated that for a long moment… and was still thinking it over when Tony came in.

"Hey, Pizza Girl!" He called, somewhat urgently. "Get out here, we need you!"

Loki and I exchanged a glance, then moved quickly. He helped me to my feet- unnecessarily- and the two of us ran out of the room swiftly. The other Avengers were outside waiting for us, and Steve was barking out orders.

"Natalie, I need you with Romanoff and Stark," he said. I looked around; everyone-including the newly crowned King Thor- was here. Everyone but Banner, at least. "Loki, you're with us."

Loki's lip twitched down. "Shouldn't Frost and I-" he started warily. Already, Rogers was shaking his head.

"Trust me, you'll want eyes everywhere," he said. We nodded curtly in return. It made sense, from a tactical standpoint; Loki and I were good for relaying messages to separate teams, and if one saw something, then naturally, so did the other. "Now go!" Steve ordered, and immediately, we fell into line. We were used to that by now.

"So what's happening?" I asked Tony as he and Natasha led me forwards at a brisk pace that, while I had a hard time keeping up, was just slow enough.

"It'll be best if you see for yourself," Natasha answered, her tone giving nothing away. I nodded back, and she led us down the halls. We didn't have to walk far, though we did take the elevator once, which surprised me; but I guessed that it was quicker to take the elevator than to walk down the stairs and have to wait for me to recover.

We arrived, after a few minutes, in a small room. At the far end was a closet, which Natasha gestured to. I immediately went towards it, readying my force field, but not yet flaring it, assuming that the other two Avengers were following me.

I was wrong. Because then I opened the closet.

I was taken aback by a flurry of white; and, as I stepped back, I realized that there was only one thing inside of the closet. Far away, Loki, with the others, seemed to be facing the same predicament; another closet, and inside, a tux.

I stared, blankly, at the wedding dress, which seemed to stare right back at me. Confused, I looked back to Natasha and Stark- the latter of which had a huge grin on his face- and asked, "What… what's this? What's going on?"

Natasha's lip quirked up. "What do you think?" She asked in turn.

Tony's grin grew wide, almost manic. "You're getting married!"


	12. Revival

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to reconcile the fact that, within the next few hours, I would become a different person. I would no longer be Natalie Frost.

And I tried to reconcile the fact that the Avengers had tricked me. _Me._ And I was marrying the _Trickster._ I was used to it. I should've known better.

But they'd played it so smart…

Natasha pulled her fingers through my hair, expertly making a few simple-yet-elegant curls and applying dashes of hairspray every so often. I was sitting down- they were already worried that I wouldn't be able to stand for long during the ceremony, which was part of the reason why it was going to be 'simplified'- and still staring into the mirror, my eyes occasionally flitting to the wedding dress that was still hanging up in the closet. Stark had stepped out of the room to 'let the ladies be ladies', and so I was alone with Natasha.

Alone with that dress.

"It's all pretty simple," Stark had explained to me while I had ogled. "You wanna get married before you leave. Loki's driving himself to death, trying to make that happen. We don't want to lose an Avenger, so we set up a good old-fashioned Earth wedding in the hospital chapel. Short and simple and to the point, with no one allowed in but those with the security clearance to know everything. That way, even if he fails to pull off the big, fancy-pants wedding in Jotunheim _before_ you leave, it won't matter. You'll be official. And, when you come back, you can have the other wedding if you want to, for the sake of your subjects." He'd grinned, then. "I know, I know, we shouldn't have."

And now Natasha was making me look fancy while the boys were helping Loki with his tux and directing the crowd into their respective places. Not that there was much of a 'crowd' to speak of; very few people were actually here. Just Loki's parents- don't ask me how they pulled _that_ off, though I'm sure Thor had a lot to do with it- the Avengers themselves, Tiff and Ben- I don't know how they pulled _that_ off, either- and, of course, my parents.

My first reaction to _that,_ of course, had been the enthusiastic question: "My dad's here?"

Natasha and Stark shared a weighted look. I knew what it meant even before she turned to me and admitted, "We tried, Natalie."

I tried not to let that get to me -Happiest day of my life, right? - and Stark said, "Hey, it's still pretty early. He might still show."

I'd smiled and pretended to believe him.

And now, Natasha fluffed out my hair a little bit. "You all right?" she asked, quietly.

"Nervous as hell, why?"

She smiled. I bit the inside of my lip. "Who's the person marrying us, by the way?" And then I scowled. "It isn't Stark, right? He didn't just get a certificate online, _right?_ "

"No," she answered, her eyes on my hair. The room was small- what could you expect from a hospital?- and there wasn't exactly a lot of space for hair products, but she'd gotten around that somehow, because every time she needed something, it seemed to appear from thin air. "Though it wasn't for lack of trying," she added, smiling just a little.

I closed my eyes in relief. "Well, that's something," I muttered. Then, clearing my throat and bringing my voice back to hearing level, I asked, "So who is it, then?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. sent someone," she answered. "He has the clearance." She pulled my hair back, now, finishing her work, adding a few little details. I had stopped looking at it in the mirror; I found that it just made me nervous, trying to guess what it would end up looking like. "We've also brought someone from Jotunheim; we wanted to make it official on all worlds."

For some reason, that made me feel a little warmer inside. They'd gone that extra step for us. They were really… _accepting_ us.

After a minute, she had finished with my hair; so, she stepped back. "And now for the dress," she said with a nod towards the white object in the room that was slowly becoming a part of my waking nightmares.

She helped me into the gown; it fit surprisingly well, which was lucky. It was a simple thing- I hadn't wanted anything too big and poofy- made of fabric that sashayed around me and was easy enough to move in. It was all drawn together at a single strap on my right shoulder, which was held in place by a silver clasp, studded with white and pale blue gems. It was also fairly long, coming down to my ankles, but not long enough that I'd be tripping in it. It was… perfect. It was _all_ perfect.

I just hoped that I looked perfect enough _in_ it.

Once Natasha had adjusted the dress a little and put the veil on my head, she carefully turned me towards the mirror. I fought a small gasp.

But someone else did it for me.

"Oh, Natalie," a quiet voice in the back of the room breathed. "You look beautiful."

It was my mother's voice. And for a moment, I couldn't turn back to look at her; because she was right. I _did_ look beautiful. For once in my life, I actually… _felt_ beautiful. Natasha had done a wonder on my hair and makeup; you couldn't even tell that I'd been in an accident just a month or so before. You wouldn't have even _guessed._ You would've been too distracted by the dress, which cascaded around me, concealing my gaunt form. The short sleeves left the scars visible, it was true, but Natasha had fixed them up with some makeup as well; and while she couldn't erase them, they _did_ look much better. Less ugly, and a little thinner. The entire dress had a faint shimmer to it, luminescent and sparkling softly in the light. My hair was tied up in a simple bun on the back of my head, but a few small curls in the back segued into a cascade of them, which surrounded my face. Small gems had been attached to my head, decorating and completing the style, making me look…

Well, like someone else. Because I wasn't this pretty. For once… for once, maybe, I looked how I should have looked. I mean, all the other Avengers got to look beautiful, right? 'Twas only fair.

My mother stepped up behind me, turning me around to face her. In spite of my choice of groom, she had that look on her face; the one that I'd seen on sappy TV specials and read about in books. The look a mom will have when she sees her daughter in a wedding dress: excited, happy, proud… and just a little bit teary-eyed. She took my hand, smiling in a way that suggested she was trying really hard not to cry.

"Oh," She said, because it seemed she had no more words, and carefully, trying not to ruffle the dress or smudge my makeup, she pulled me into a hug. I hugged her back, being just as careful… but it felt good. A nice, perfect mom-hug. Sometimes, you just needed one of those.

When she pulled back again, she _was_ crying. She dried her eyes swiftly, sniffling just a little. And she said something that I would never have expected; least of all on a day like today. "I'm so proud of you, Natalie."

Well, great. Now _I_ was getting teary-eyed. "Thanks, mom," I said, very quietly. I didn't ask where dad was. I knew. And, yeah, it mattered… but my mother was here. My mother was proud of me. For perhaps the first time, at least one of my parents was supporting one of my Loki-related decisions; and the biggest decision there was.

Natasha had gracefully, silently exited the room, leaving me alone with my mother; who, true to form, fiddled with a curl, straightening it out a bit. When she saw me smiling, she stopped, looking a little abashed… But she was still smiling herself.

"You have everything?" She asked. "Old, new, borrowed and blue?"

I smiled a little. "Surprisingly, I do," I admitted, holding up my bracelet-clad wrist. The trinket was both old and borrowed, lent to me by Natasha. It had probably seen a thing or two in its day, having been on a spy's wrist.

Blue was the clasp on my dress, with its pale blue gems (though Stark had made a few jokes concerning the groom's natural skin color). And new was something that had been sent to me by Tiff; the silver comb that held my hairstyle together.

My mother nodded, clearing away another few tears and waving her hand in front of her face in an attempt to dry them. "Good. That's good."

Seeing that she needed a distraction- and quickly- I cleared my throat. "So how long, exactly, have the Avengers been planning this?" I asked archly, lifting an eyebrow.

She smiled. "Not long. About a week now. Expect a few things to go very wrong."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No, mom," I told her, very quietly. "Everything… everything will go very, very right. Just like it's supposed to."

And of course, that spurred her to hug me again and cry just a little more.

It took a little while for her to say her goodbyes and go to her seat. I took a deep breath as Natasha materialized by my side again, this time with Stark in tow.

"Freaking out yet?" The Iron Man asked.

"A little bit," I admitted without admitting; because I was far more than 'a little bit' freaked out. I was almost having a full-blown meltdown. I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking, and my fingertips were tingling from nerves; and my constant hyperventilation.

"Need a paper bag?"

"I'll keep you posted."

"Natasha?" That was Clint's voice. He knocked on the door, and the other spy went to answer it. "You're needed."

She turned to me. I waved her off, and she walked out. After she had left, I sank into my seat again. Already, my side and leg were giving me a little bit of trouble; though I put down a majority of that to stress.

Stark was studying me. I only noticed after he'd been quiet for almost a whole minute; which was a rarity, for him. I turned to him and saw his eyes locked on me, staring with a strange intensity.

"What?" I asked.

He shook himself out of it. "Nothing. Nothing at all." And then he sighed. "Just…"

He seemed to debate with himself whether or not he wanted to say anything. At last, he concluded that he did, for he shrugged and told me, "About two years ago… I realized that a bunch of nanos had escaped from my lab. A bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D.-sanctioned nanobots had escaped from my lab and the only person who had been around at the time was some overly hostile, irritable Pizza Girl named Natalie Frost, who apparently hated my guts already." He shook his head. "And now, two years later…"

He gestured to me with both hands hopelessly. I chuckled softly as his hands fell back to his sides again. "The stupidest things, huh?" I asked. "You never know what life is gonna throw your way."

He shook his head again. "I guess not."

Natasha entered the room a moment later. Nodding to me, she told Stark, "Get her to the entrance. We'll be ready in five."

And then she was gone.

I started panicking again.

I took a few very deep breaths. I wasn't sure why I was worried, why this was so utterly nerve-wracking. Why I felt as though there was a leash around my neck, tightening just a little further with every second that I got closer to Loki, to that little hospital chapel. I mean, I was already tied to him for life; however long that life might be. I was absolutely in love with him. There would never be anyone else. I wasn't giving up any freedom that I hadn't sacrificed already. I _wanted_ this.

So why was I scared?

I didn't know. I reached out to squeeze Stark's hand. "How's Loki doing?" I asked. "Freaking out?"

He lifted an eyebrow. It was rare-if not entirely unheard of- for me to ask someone _else_ about Loki's emotional state. "Shouldn't you know?" he asked in turn.

"We're staying out of each other's heads," I answered. "S'much as we can. It's giving us a headache, but we're following human tradition. I don't want him seeing me until… y'know."

He nodded. "He's doing fine, Nat," he promised. "He's not going to leave you standing up there if that's what you're worried about."

I bit my lip. "Well, I _wasn't,_ until you _mentioned_ it."

He chuckled dryly, leading me to the little entrance. I was standing in the hall in my wedding dress, and there were people walking by giving me looks. I ignored them. Or I tried to, anyway.

Stark peered inside of the chapel quickly, and I did the same, searching out the meager audience. Some small part of me couldn't help but hope. But, of course, my father was not amongst the few who _had_ arrived. My mouth went a little drier, and I swallowed as Stark closed the door again.

"Right, then," he said. "I should get going." Turning to me, he asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

I nodded. But my eyes were prickling, and I know that my lie was pretty easy to see through when I said, "Yeah. Totally."

He didn't buy it. Slouching to the side, he said, "You know, it's okay if you're having doubts. Or even if you wanna leave. We won't blame you. Hell, I'll even drive you out of here."

I shook my head, very quickly, though I didn't doubt the sincerity of his offer. "No, that's not it. I…" I cleared my throat. "I… I guess… I guess it's like what you said, y'know? That… two years ago…" I shook my head out, sighing heavily. "Two years ago, I was going to become a psychiatrist. My best friend was going to be a scientist, and I was going to be her shrink for the rest of time. I was delivering pizza today and going places tomorrow. I was gonna get out of New York, get married to Prince Charming, have a life, have a career and a few kids. Tony Stark was just a name and a face, a small little blip on my radar. And I'd never even heard the name 'Loki.'" I looked down at my silver shoes. They were flats, of course; easy to run in. "I had plans. I knew what I was doing with my life." I shrugged. "Now, two years later, I'm not going to become a psychiatrist. I'm going to be the Queen of a Planet that I'd never even heard of before. I'm getting married, sure: and my maid of honor is a super spy. Not to mention the fact that my _groom_ is the _Norse god of Mischief_."

He smiled a little. I couldn't find it in me to smile. I just blinked away the prickling in my eyes as I stared at the doors. "And my dad isn't even here to walk me down the aisle."

We were quiet for the longest time, standing in the silence. I closed my eyes, realizing how selfish I sounded, how petty- I mean, the Avengers had gone out of their way to do this for me, to make me feel better, and all I could do was complain about something that was totally out of their control- but for a second, I allowed myself to be selfish. People were always telling me to do that, after all.

But it was _only_ for a second. Then I shoved the thoughts out of my brain as hard as I could and shook my head, smiling a little. "Ah, sorry," I said, running my fingers under my eyes, making sure that my mascara hadn't smudged. "It's an emotional day."

He nodded. "I understand that," he said, as though he truly did. After a moment, he told me, "You know… you really look great, kid."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Tone."

He nodded curtly. "Knock 'em dead," he told me, then slipped into the chapel. "Just come on in when you hear the music, okay?"

I nodded, listening as hard as I could.

As Stark went inside and closed the door behind him, he immediately scanned the crowd. Seeing the same thing that I had- a distinct absence of one Cameron Frost- he sighed briefly before heading over to Banner, who was acting as an usher.

Clearing his throat behind the other scientist, Stark waited until Banner turned to him before he talked. "Her dad's a no-show," Stark whispered. "Plan B?"

Bruce's eyes softened; and he nodded. Then he walked off; he had a job to do.

* * *

 _Waves hitting the sand. The smell of the salt spray in the air. The feeling of warm, golden sand beneath your fingertips. Breathing, in and out, in and out, in time with the waves._

Well. That last part certainly wasn't working; unless my imaginary ocean was currently in the middle of a hurricane. There was no one around but the occasional passers-by giving me an odd stare, and without the constant reassurance that the other Avengers were around and on board with this, I was starting to freak out again. I wished Natasha was around. I wished _Loki_ was around, that he was standing nearby…

Why wouldn't the music _start_ already?

Something had gone wrong. That was the only explanation. Loki had decided not to go through with this. He didn't want to keep me around if I wasn't mortal; didn't want me around forever. No, that wasn't it- that _couldn't_ be it- so what else? There was a wardrobe malfunction, probably. Or Loki was getting finicky with his hair. He did that. Diva.

But what if it was something else? I wanted to bite my lip, my nails, but I didn't want to ruin my lipstick, so I settled for gnawing on the inside of my cheek instead. What if there was something terrible happening? I mean, I didn't have great expectations for this wedding, didn't expect it to be fancy and well-decorated or anything… I mean, I was holding a bouquet in my arms, that was fancy enough for me. But what if something had been nice and pretty and special and it had suddenly gotten ruined? What if Loki had disliked something? What if the Jotun who had come here to make this marriage official on my new home world had been offended by something that someone said? Not everyone in there was a diplomat, after all; and some of them didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.

What if Loki was freaking out just as badly as I was? I'd never seen him really _freaked_ before, not really _nervous._ What if he had left a double of himself in the room, then went out the window the first chance he had? What if…

"May I?"

The words were unexpected enough to make me jump, to reach down to my nonexistent belt for the knife that I no longer carried while I was on Earth. But, thankfully, it didn't get any more violent; I turned to face Banner, who had materialized beside me without a sound. He was surprisingly good at that. Maybe even better than the spies. But then, years in hiding will do that to a person.

His arm was held out to me. For a moment, I blinked at it, staring, completely uncomprehending; but when the music started, I understood. He kept his arm held out, a kind smile on his face.

Ok. That was it. My emotions had been dragged all over the place today, but this was definitely the icing on the cake. The tears were about to overflow, and I silently thanked Natasha in my head for having the foresight to make sure she put on _waterproof_ mascara. I blinked them away as quickly as I could and nodded, taking Banner's arm. He gave my arm a reassuring little squeeze, and as we walked through the door, I returned it with a squeeze of my own.

And then Bruce Banner walked me down the aisle.

The chapel was small, even smaller than I'd expected; or than I'd really seen through my brief glimpses inside. The few scattered occupants made it look downright crowded. Loki's parents, of course, were sitting on the 'groom's side'; but pretty much everyone else was on the bride's side of the room. The music was playing, and I couldn't figure out what the tune was; not the usual song they played in all the movies. Not something I was overly familiar with, either. But it was sweet and lighthearted, and it made my footsteps a little less heavy.

And of course, I was walking on air the moment I saw him standing at the front.

Loki was watching me. From the second I entered the room, he'd been giving me a very well-practiced look of awe and admiration, one of those expressions that you practice in the mirror fifty times a day because you're terrified to get it wrong. But as he saw me, as his green eyes- they were green now, he was back to his Asgardian form- flitted up and down, taking me in… the false expression disappeared. In its place was genuine wonder, genuine amazement, genuine… joy. I felt his heart rate triple its speed behind mine; which was okay, because mine was more than keeping pace with it.

He looked… perfect. I didn't have another word to describe it. He was dressed in a very human-style tux, it was true… but he wore it so perfectly well that it didn't even matter that it wasn't something true to his home world. There was a rose tucked into his pocket, a blood-red flower, and his tie was a deep green, setting off his eyes. His hair was slicked back on his head, as usual, though it seemed that he'd tidied it up a bit. And the smile on his face… that smile… it was amazing. Because it was one of those rare genuine smiles that I usually had to whine and needle out of him, one of those rare moments where he showed the truest and kindest of his emotions plainly on his face. Even his eyes- usually filled with cunning- held nothing but wonder now.

I hoped someone had a camera. And that they were training it directly on him. Forget the blushing bride; the groom was the focus, here.

The distance between me and Loki was both gut-wrenchingly short and heart-breakingly long. I glided down the aisle with as much dignity and grace as I could muster, holding myself high…and then abandoned that. Because Fraye was the one who had taught me how to show power like that, how to be regal like that. I wasn't regal right now. I wasn't a Queen yet. I was just the woman who was madly in love with this man and I didn't care how I looked as I walked over to him; so long as I ended up right next to him in the end.

I did, of course. Natasha took my flower bouquet out of my hands gently, stepping back into place once she'd done so. As I took my place beside my husband-to-be in front of the man ministering this particular wedding, I realized that he was having a very difficult time keeping his eyes off of me. It was a very good feeling, that. Even if I'd only learned about it because _I_ was having a difficult time keeping _my_ eyes off of _him._

The music went silent. The whole room went silent. And of course, the minister started.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"

Wow, they actually said that. Of course they did. I knew that. I'd been to weddings before.

I was having a hard time keeping my focus on the man's words. My eyes were on Loki. I was trying to keep them off, truly I was, but it was nigh impossible. I noticed, only after a long moment of staring, that Thor was standing next to his brother. He, too, had been forced into a human-style suit. I realized after a while what his position in the room meant: Thor had been appointed as Loki's best man. This made me unbearably happy, and my eyes threatened to overfill again.

Dammit.

Loki's hand twitched towards me, as though he wished to take my hand into his own. But he showed very little affection; at least, not up here. And not yet. Not just yet.

The minister was talking about marriage and love and the power of such a union. I had no clue what he was saying, but it struck me that it was terribly profound, and completely right. This was definitely the most powerful thing _I'd_ ever felt; and that was saying a _lot._

I don't know how long I was standing up there. I suddenly couldn't take it. I couldn't take this. It was actually happening and I couldn't take it. Loki was standing right next to me and soon he'd be mine and I'd be his in a way that no one could dispute. I wouldn't be saying that I was his 'fiancée' anymore. He'd be my husband. I'd be his wife. It'd be final.

No more Natalie Frost.

I was going to be Natalie Laufeyson.

And I couldn't take it. I couldn't handle waiting for it. I wanted it to happen _now._ I didn't want to be _standing_ here, on my aching leg, with my aching ribs, any longer. I wanted it _over._ I wanted it _done._ I wanted it _official._

I wanted to _win_ for once. I wanted Fraye- and every other idiot who had ever tried to _stop_ this- to _lose._

Loki's eye caught on something happening behind us and, reluctantly, he took his eyes off of me to see what it was. The door was opening. I knew that someone had been sent there, appointed as a guard (some S.H.I.E.L.D. agent) so that no one could enter here without being expected. It was a necessary precaution; anyone who didn't know what was going on who entered this room would probably freak out pretty immediately upon seeing who, exactly, was getting married in this chapel today. But it _was_ someone expected. Someone we knew. Someone who didn't exactly have the 'clearance' to be here, per se, but definitely belonged.

As the minister started the 'I do's', my father took a seat at the back of the chapel. And he smiled sadly.

"Do you, Loki Laufeyson, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Loki and I had turned to each other. When had that happened? How had I not noticed, with those green eyes burning into me in the way that they were?

"I do."

This was way too human. Why did it fit him? Why did I _love_ hearing those words from him? It was a human sentiment, not a Jotun one, not an Asgardian one…

 _Don't over think it, darling,_ his voice said, suddenly in my mind. We had dropped our defenses the second I'd entered the room, but I was so wrapped up in this haze that I'd barely noticed. I swallowed and tried to follow his advice, realizing that the minister was almost done with my part of the 'I do's'.

"In sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

 _Oh, absolutely,_ I thought, which made Loki's mouth turn up in another one of his rare genuine smiles. Out loud, I managed to get the words out; but only barely. "I do."

"Do you have the rings?"

Thor had one job; which meant that Loki was fairly certain he would botch it somehow. He was more than a little relieved when his best man handed him the two silver bands; each of them was comprised with the Asgardian/Jotun-style Celtic knots. One of them- I assumed mine- was as solid silver as the other, with one difference; interweaved with the other knots was a softly-glimmering thread of magical, Tesseract-blue.

I was sure that the minister would say something more; but this, apparently, was where the other Jotun in the room came in. He stepped up, effortlessly switching places with the human officiator from S.H.I.E.L.D., and began to speak in a very ancient Jotun dialect; one that was old enough that even Loki and I had a hard time translating. We got the general gist, though, and I found myself smothering a large grin by the time it was over.

Then the Jotun nodded to the human, and again, they switched places. It was all rather effortless, which made me feel a little self-conscious; I had a feeling that I'd been bumbling through this ceremony. That wasn't really my fault; it _had_ kinda been a surprise.

Loki carefully slid the ring on my finger. The smile was back, but it had a spark of its former mischief again. That was okay. I'd already missed that spark. I slid the ring on his finger, too, and I very much liked the sight of it there. There was something physical there now, which showed everyone in the world that I was taken. More importantly, that _he_ was taken.

There were a few more words that I didn't care about. They were only words, right? This- this feeling that passed between us as we stood there- this was more than words could ever be. So I waited impatiently for the words that finally came: "I declare you man and wife." And then, "You may now kiss the bride."

Loki turned to me again. His eyes were gleaming in a very Trickster-ish way, and I couldn't… I couldn't believe it. I'd been impatient for it to happen, and now that it finally _had…_ it couldn't be real… my life wasn't that good…

 _Okay, Fraye,_ I thought to myself, a thought hidden away from my other half. _Speak now or forever hold your peace._

I waited to wake up. I waited to arrive back in that chair. That was what always happened, after all; it was always at the happiest points in my dreams that she brought me, kicking and screaming, back to reality.

But reality was Loki. It was the way he leaned towards me, the way he wrapped one arm around me and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me right there in front of everyone, like it totally didn't even matter. And reality was the way that I was kissing him back, the way the Avengers were cheering. Reality was the way that we refused to break off, and the cheering got louder. The way Stark wolf-whistled. The way that we refused to break off for even longer, until Stark called out, right there in that chapel, "Okay, that's enough, you two! Save it for the honeymoon!"

Reality was the way I waved him off like he was nothing but an irksome fly. Reality was the way that everyone in the room started laughing at that. Reality was the fact that even Odin, sitting so seriously in his seat in the empty side of the room, smiled just slightly at my actions.

Reality was the way Loki was looking at me when he finally broke away. It was the way his eyes were gleaming, the smug little look on his face, the triumph on his every feature. It was the way that he lifted me back upright- I hadn't even realized that he'd dipped me, in a very dramatic fashion- and ran his hand down my arm so that it could link with mine. Reality was the way that we walked out of the hospital chapel together.

And reality… reality was my life. The one that was just beginning.

* * *

"Natalie Laufeyson," I mused to myself, later that night. "It's got a ring to it."

"You didn't have to take the name," Loki murmured into my hair. We were back in my hospital room- I wasn't going to be discharged for another two days; and standing up in front of everyone for all that time like that hadn't really helped my recovery- but Loki had been oddly possessive since the wedding ceremony- and the reception that the Avengers threw in my room afterward. He'd been in constant contact with me all day; whether by simply holding my hand, keeping an arm over my shoulder, or otherwise, he hadn't broken contact once. He was currently sharing the little hospital bed with me; so that I was half-draped over him, curled up against his chest while he occasionally pressed his lips against my head. He apparently liked the smell of my hair, too; because he rarely moved his face away from it. I let him. It felt nice. I felt… _wanted._

That was a new feeling, in a lot of ways.

"I like the name," I retorted. "It's a good name."

"The name of a monster?"

" _Your_ name. And even if you _are_ a monster, you're _my_ freaking monster. So deal with it."

He chuckled softly, toying with the ring on my finger. I took his hand in both of mine so that I could trace patterns on his palm. I was full of chocolate and the hastily-made wedding cake that wasn't a thousand layers or overly special; but a simple, one-layer feature that had the word 'Congratulations!" on the front in a cursive font. The room still had mementos of the party that we'd hosted here; and I admit, we had been shushed by nurses more than once. Oops.

I continued tracing patterns on Loki's hand, wondering vaguely how Thor had managed to convince the Jotuns in charge of the rings to hand them over to him without telling the king. Ah, well. It didn't matter much.

"So you're gonna stick with this, right?" I asked. "You're not going to make yourself crazy trying to get the wedding on Jotunheim in?"

"No."

"Good."

We were quiet again. I was getting sleepy. It was so comfortable here, warm and safe, and I was beginning to drift off. I knew that Loki was, too. I closed my eyes, resting against him, and wished that I knew what else to say. Not that Loki was really _expecting_ me to say anything; it just seemed… odd. Like I should be saying something deep and profound now that we were married, now that everything had changed.

What I managed was, "Guess my initials are different now, too."

"Hmm," he agreed quietly.

We were quiet again. Then, almost silently, I said, "Loki?"

"Yes?"

"I don't regret any of it."

He seemed to sense that there was more to these words than one would first assume; and, for the first time in almost an hour, he pulled back. I tilted my head back so that I could see his face, so that he could see mine. "I don't regret it," I repeated. "Any of it. Not… not meeting you, not anything that happened afterwards… not a single day of those four months. If that's what it took to get here… then I don't regret it. Not in the least."

His responding look was unreadable, his head tilting just the slightest half-inch. And then, very softly, he sighed. Kissing my forehead once, he said, "And yet, when our marriage was finalized, all you could think of… was her."

I flinched. The words almost burned. It wasn't true; that wasn't the _only_ thing that I'd been thinking… but I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't thought it. I'd hidden the thought, it was true… but he was clearly getting better at reading those hidden thoughts of mine. I looked away from him, shame crawling behind my ribcage.

He didn't let up. "You worried. You assumed that this was nothing more than a dream. You thought you would wake under her control once again." He didn't let me look away, not this time. Instead, he took my face in his hand and forced it to face him. But my eyes kept darting away, _staying_ away. "And you still wish to see her again, Frost? You still wish to wake the Shadows in Elliroth?"

Desperately, I tried to change the subject: "You shouldn't call me 'Frost', anymore." My eyes went up to his at last. He was giving me a stern look, not letting me back out of this that easily. So I looked away again, closing my eyes this time. "Can we not do this tonight?" I asked, very quietly. "We just got married. Can't we be happy about that?"

"You weren't."

That stung. Because it wasn't true. My eyes flicked open again, and the sharp reply came to my tongue immediately. "That's not true! That… that was the happiest moment of _my life,_ okay, and that… that's the _only_ reason that I worried… that I thought… that I thought that Fraye might wake me up, bring me back! You know what it was like, Loki! You remember! The dreams? You were always happiest right before you woke up and if… if I _did_ wake up now, Loki… I don't… I don't know what I'd do."

I looked down, burying my face in the hand that was still holding it. He allowed me to do so, released my chin and let me press my cheek into his palm. His eyes softened slightly. But _only_ slightly.

"If you woke up," I murmured, again not looking directly at him. "If you woke up and you were still on the throne… It wouldn't be so bad. Because… Because you could still save me again; or at least die trying. You could rebel against Fraye. But I… I _couldn't._ I would wake up knowing that it was all a lie, that you really weren't coming back for me, that I was all alone in this universe… and that I was going to die. That I was going to be…" I swallowed convulsively as a lump began to form in my throat, but I made the words leave my mouth, anyway. "To be _tortured_ to _death._ I lasted for four months, Loki; and she hadn't even really _started._ You know what that is, to think there's no escape: and that… that's what would happen. If I _did_ wake up."

At last, I brought my eyes to him again. He was studying me quite intently; and while there was a degree of pity in his eyes, and more than a fair share of remorse, they seemed more calculating than anything else. Running his thumb across my cheekbone, he asked, "And what purpose will bringing her back have, Frost? You will see her. She will appear to be… _alive_ again. Can you live with that image in your head? Can you live with that in your _nightmares?_ "

I shrugged, saying weakly, "It helped me say goodbye to April, didn't it? Why can't-" I cleared my throat, "Why can't it help me with Fraye?"

He didn't appear to have a response. So, immediately, I pressed on, "And there's more than just _me_ at stake here. The two of us- and Fenrir, if you're really so desperate to bring him along- are going to be relying on the word of _one man._ We're going to be journeying towards who-knows-where, guided along by a guy who… well, quite frankly, has already _lied to us._ It just… It would be best to have all the information, wouldn't it? Even if it comes from _her?_ "

The 'Fenrir' thing was a blow and a trade all in one. I hadn't so much as said the words out loud- or even articulated them clearly in our minds- but it was immediately understood what I meant by mentioning the name of my husband's old friend. I was striking a deal: Loki would help me with Fraye, and in turn, I wouldn't put up too much of a fuss about letting Fenrir tag along. But if he _didn't…_ then it was pretty much assured that I would do anything and everything in my rather considerable power to make sure that the Wyr Wolf was stuck on Jotunheim when we left.

He took a deep breath, letting it out in an irritated sigh. Looking away again, he muttered, "I shall take it into consideration."

Which meant 'yes'. He didn't know it meant yes yet, but _I_ did. Because Loki tended to follow along with reasoning eventually, once he pushed his pride and jealousy and other dark emotions out of the way, once he'd had time to _deal_ with them. I smiled a little to myself and let myself settle back into his arms again. He seemed to recognize that I was satisfied with this response; which irked him a little, because _he_ had truly meant that he'd _think it over,_ not that he _would_ do it _._ To him, it was still a 'maybe'.

But that was all right. Because this time, when I changed the subject, he allowed me to do so. Which meant that he wasn't _too_ annoyed with me. "So do you think you'll _ever_ stop calling me 'Frost'?" I inquired. "I mean, it's not my name anymore."

"You are the Child of Frost," He answered. "Every Jotun knows this. A change of one name does not mean the abandonment of the other."

"So that's a 'no', then."

"Precisely."

I smiled a little, staring at the far wall on the other end of the room. I tried to settle back into my comfortable position once again, and found it surprisingly easy. I closed my eyes, trying to return to the lull that had claimed me before our temporary bout of bickering. That was just a little harder.

We were quiet again, sitting there together. I started humming, tunelessly, the sounds small in the semi-darkness of the room.

And slowly Loki and I drifted off to sleep in each other's arms; for the thousandth- and the first- time.

* * *

The next few weeks passed with an alarming swiftness. Loki and I barely had time to adjust to married life; though, admittedly, it wasn't all that different. After all, we _had_ lived together for quite a while _beforehand;_ so we were used to having each other as- for lack of a better word- 'roommates'. We were _used_ to each other's little quirks.

But us being married _did_ change a lot of things; besides… well, the _obvious_ (get your minds out of the gutter, thank you).

We were official. The entirety of Jotunheim had heard by now of the marriage on Earth; and while some had cried offense and outrage, many of those within the palace walls, closer to the courts, were quite relieved. Sure, the plans for the wedding on _Jotunheim_ were still continuing; but there _was_ a great deal less pressure on a lot of people.

And then there was my coronation.

Loki had looked unbearably smug when that crown had been lowered onto _my_ head; giving me a look that was fairly identical to the one that I'd given _him_ on _his_ coronation day. But it had been announced, it was final, and all those mortal-haters were going to have to deal with it; because there was now a human queen on the Jotun throne.

Everything changed. At yet, nothing did. My orders _had_ to be carried out, now; though they frequently were before, regardless of my status. I officially moved into the palace, my new home; and put my apartment on Earth back up for sale. I didn't need it anymore.

All my stuff was moved to the palace or the Tower. Stark kept up permanent quarters for me there, saying that it would 'always be home if you needed it', but I found that, most of the time, I _didn't_ need it. It was for Avengers business only. I wasn't visiting Earth as much any longer; I had duties to perform.

But beyond all that was the difference in Loki's and my relationship; and all I can think to say about _that_ is: 'The more things change, the more things stay the same'.

Because everything and nothing changed about us. We belonged to each other now, in an undeniable way; though we'd pretty much felt that way before. And we were as much in love as ever. But, strangely, we had a lot fewer fights; other than that first momentary bout of arguing that first night, the two of us had been entirely cordial to one another; which was rare, for us. We were used to constantly bickering. It was part of how we showed affection.

I guessed both of us realized that we were going to be stuck with each other for a very, _very_ long time; particularly if this 'plan' of ours succeeded. We'd have years upon years to bicker pointlessly; no point in getting a head start on it now.

But, now that I _was_ Queen, I _did_ get to see him a lot more often. The two of us were actually rarely apart; and if we were, we were usually discussing the happenings of the kingdom together in our heads, anyway. It was all rather fun, actually.

But Queenly duties were a lot different from Kingly ones; so we _were_ separated on occasion. But always, at the end of the day, we would come back to our room at the palace, and we would talk and laugh and act… well, like we were married.

It was a step in a lot of couple's lives; but never had I thought it was such an easy, flawless, and yet _disastrously_ impossible transition.

I pulled my traveling cloak off and collapsed into my seat. Loki had arrived back in the room only a few minutes before I had; and he was, of all things, packing.

"Not leaving me, are you, darling?" I teased.

"Well… this is frightfully awkward… but I've found this blonde, you see…"

I tossed a pencil at him, which he expertly side-stepped, eyes flitting up to me and dancing briefly. The thing about marrying a Trickster: he always had answers to your quips. As I smiled back at him, I gestured to the two traveler's packs on the bed. One was of very clear Jotun design; and the other was a good old-fashioned backpack, straight from Wal-Mart. But I could see its magical fortification through Loki's eyes; it wasn't exactly an ordinary pack. You could probably fit a lot more inside of it than you normally could, and it would weather the elements a lot better. "Those for us?"

He nodded. "I thought it best not to delay the inevitable for much longer," he informed me. "The Kingdom of Jotunheim shall go to Steprin on our departure, and until our return. I have made the arrangements."

I lifted an eyebrow. "How did he react to that?"

"He was startled; and honored. Naturally, he accepted."

"Naturally," I answered, though inwardly I wondered. I mean, who in their right mind would _want_ a throne, when offered? I mean, I supposed I wasn't one to judge, considering both my position on the throne _and_ my husband's; but it's been pretty well established that neither of _us_ was entirely right in the head.

"It took some convincing," Loki added reassuringly; which _did_ make me feel a little better. Anyone who would accept a throne seconds after it had been sprung on them was either crazy, or in a world of hurt. "But all of the preparations shall be finished within the week; we will leave by then."

He turned away from me now, carefully placing my traveler's cloak in the backpack- which he'd chosen based solely on my familiarity with it- and hesitated. After a moment, his words heavy with double meaning, he said, "Fenrir was pleased to hear that he shall be allowed along this journey."

My ears pricked. "Was he?" I asked silkily in return. "And did he agree with me on the matter of Fraye?"

His lip twitched up. As though he'd thought-for even one second- that he could get out of _his_ end of the deal. "He did not." He answered, turning to me. "Fortunately for you, _I_ do."

I smirked. "Knew you'd see sense eventually."

"And I knew that if I stayed linked with you for too long, I would eventually descend into madness. It seems that day has come."

"Well, we're _all_ mad here."

He didn't appreciate the quote, but he let it slide. I picked at the armrest for a moment before pronouncing, "So tomorrow morning sounds good. We can go to Elliroth and be done in time for breakfast."

He arched an overly-dignified eyebrow. But he nodded. "If that is what you wish," he replied stiffly.

"It is," I replied simply. He didn't answer for a long moment, so I took the opportunity to change the subject. "So… I guess everything's taken care of, then. All we need to do is… say our goodbyes."

"It would seem so." Loki continued packing, as he had been throughout the entire conversation, but after a moment, he paused. Turning to me, he asked, "What if Fraye has never heard of the Faden? Will you abandon this quest, based solely on her word?"

I shrugged. "Cross that bridge when I come to it," I answered. He frowned, but again, he let it slide.

"I take it that you've prepared a traveling pack for Puck as well," I added, glancing at my nails.

"Indeed," he said, a little stiffly, as though I'd been questioning his intelligence by wondering if he had considered every little minute detail of our plan. Even now, even after all these years, even on the right side and even married to me, Loki was still Loki; and he still had an easily-wounded ego that swelled to fill the room.

"Good," I answered easily. "And what of Fenrir? Is he prepared?"

"Aye," Loki replied. "He said he had one matter of unfinished business," he admitted, to which I scowled, "But it shall be over by the morning. He will be ready to leave when we are."

"Good," I repeated, tossing my hair back. "I barely wanted to bring him along," I added in a mutter. "The last thing we need is for _Fenrir_ to put this plan to an end before it even _starts._ "

* * *

Murmur was becoming quite impatient. Fenrir could smell the emotion in the air; impatience, and a distinct lack of the fear that had previously enveloped the mortal whenever he was in the Wyr Wolf's presence. He'd gotten very used to Fenrir over the months that they had worked together.

A little _too_ used to him, as it happened.

"So I see that Natalie Frost is still alive," Murmur said snidely, almost the instant that Fenrir walked in the door. "I suppose it's safe to assume that her fiancée is the same?"

Fenrir looked over the human carefully. "Husband," he corrected. "The two are married."

"I suppose it's too much to hope that this is because you simply wanted them to die happy?" Murmur growled. When Fenrir did not respond, the mortal assassin stepped up into his face. "We had a deal, Fenrir. I got you the information that you wanted. I made sure that no one else knew of your involvement. But now it's _your_ turn." When Fenrir simply watched him, coldly, from an amber-black stare, Murmur carried on with his rant. "Natalie Frost's blood is full of the greatest scientific achievement _of our time._ The money it could get me… Don't you understand yet, Wolf Boy? I _need_ that money. There isn't an agency alive that doesn't know my face, not anymore, and they're all out to-"

What these 'agencies' were out to do, Fenrir did not care to find out. He took Murmur by the shoulder, turning the assassin back to face him- for he had been pacing about the room- and, extending the claws on his fingernails, slashed them across the man's throat.

Murmur stared, wild-eyed, as he fell to his knees. Fenrir didn't stop then, driving his other hand's claws into the man's stomach. Best not to take chances.

He did not wait to see the man die. Did not wait to see the spark leave his eyes. He knew that Murmur would not find help, not here. In fact, it was unlikely that even the man's body would be found for a while.

Of course, the assassin had security measures in place. The two men who had followed along to protect him attacked Fenrir only minutes later. But it wasn't long before they, too, were disposed of.

The Wyr Wolf made a brief stop at a nearby restroom to wash up, clearing the blood away and making himself spotless before he returned to Jotunheim. Best to be safe. Best to be careful.

Best to have all the loose ends tied up; and if they could not be, then best to sever them completely. That was the plan. That had been the plan from the beginning.

And this blood on his hands, the blood that remained even after he washed it all down the drain… it was just one more thing. One more step, on the path to the end. On the path to new beginnings.

On the path to home.

* * *

"Hello, Natalie Frost."

That voice. Dear realms, that _voice._ How had I forgotten it? It was in my nightmares, in my waking hours, it was playing on a loop and a repeat in my head, and somehow, _somehow,_ I had forgotten it. I had forgotten what it really sounded like. I hadn't forgotten the sugar-sweetness, the malicious syrup, but everything else… it was new, it was different, it was…

It was exactly the same.

I cleared my throat. I'd practiced these very words in front of a mirror a number of times now. This shouldn't be difficult. My voice wouldn't tremble. I had to trust that it wouldn't. "Hello, Fraye."

Amazingly, it didn't. I sounded strong. I sounded confident. I sounded like I wasn't afraid.

Maybe I wasn't.

Fraye, sitting on the only seat in the Chamber- the small bench that April had been seated upon when I'd entered this room for the first time, all that time ago- turned her head, flashing a smile at me over her shoulder. It was as wide as ever, white teeth gleaming against pale skin, her empty black eyes as lifeless as they ever were. I had seen what those eyes looked like when she was _truly_ dead. And it chilled me to the bone to remember that there had been no difference whatsoever.

"I must say, I'm impressed," She said, looking around. The instant her eyes turned away from me, I felt a few muscles relax, and released a breath that I hadn't even been aware that I was holding.

I was still a puppet, I realized. I was tied to her with invisible strings, her slave. She held command over me, as she always had, as she had for so long…

I reflexively reached out for Loki's hand, only to remember that he wasn't there. He was standing outside. It was his magic powering the Chamber, his magic that was painting this portrait of Fraye before me now. I shuddered. I _had_ wanted for him to be beside me, I _had_ wanted him here. But I knew better. I knew that I couldn't handle it. Not if he was being forced to handle it at the same time. Our emotions would destroy each other.

No, it just had to be me. Me, and me alone, against this lifeless echo of Fraye Burns.

"I can't remember a thing," Fraye carried on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "How you managed to bring me here, knock me unconscious, put me in this room…" She looked around for a moment, then down to her hands. They were smaller than I remembered them; but it twisted my heart to see the dark red- and a smattering of blue- beneath them. Even the universe itself, even _time_ itself, remembered Fraye with blood on her hands. "And how you managed to dilute my powers," she added, her eyes sliding over to me, once more looking over her shoulder. Her very gaze was a blow to my chest.

 _I can't do this. I can't do this. Ican'tIcan'tIcan't-_

 _You can,_ Loki's voice was smooth and quiet in my head, reassuring and calm. _Just a little longer, Frost. You can do this._

I took a deep breath. And another. But I couldn't quite get the air to reach my lungs until she turned away again; which she only did for a moment. And then she stood, walking around her bench, walking up to me, getting in my face.

Immediately and instinctively, I backed away from her, stumbling back a few steps. She was still shorter than me, as she had been before, but she managed to loom high above my head as I ran into the crystalline walls, as she placed her arm on the wall behind me and leaned in close, scant inches away from my face. She couldn't even touch me, and she had already made me back away.

"How did you do it?" She purred, bringing her hand forwards, towards my face. I flinched as she ran her fingers down my cheek, caressing it carefully, sweetly, kindly…

But then her fingers passed right through my skin.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She took a step back, studying her fingers, ignoring me entirely. She still did not see me as a threat. She never had; because, quite frankly, I had never _been_ a threat to her. Not without Loki. Barely even then.

However, her failed touch had sparked something inside of me; a flash of memory, starting from the moment those shadows pierced through Fraye's body and ending at the moment that I saw her small, shrouded corpse falling into the hole that had been dug for her out of the ashes of her former world.

Fraye was _dead._ And even appearing before me like this, she was nothing but an echo. A memory. Even here and even now.

So I cleared my throat. And when I stood taller once again, when I spoke with a steady voice, it was no longer an act. I _was_ steady. I was _calm._

Because Fraye was _gone._

"Do you recognize where we are?" I asked of her, looking her in the eye. It was easier than I'd expected. I guess that, after being around a Fraye who _could_ hurt me, a Fraye who _was_ hurting me, even months after her death, this wasn't so terrifying in comparison.

The Echo of Elliroth looked around the Chamber. "Haven't the slightest," she replied cheerfully, turning away from me and flicking her hair over her shoulder again. She scanned the walls, and I saw something spark on her face, something that she hid from me: hope. She was _hopeful._ Her powers were gone and she couldn't hurt me and she was _hopeful._

Because she was already dead; but she was still _trying_ to die.

In that moment, I felt something for Fraye that I hadn't felt in a very long time: pity. And so that pity carried me onwards, led me to say the words that would give her the most hope of all, "You're in the Chamber of Elliroth."

The words finally struck a chord in her head; immediately, she whirled on me. Her black eyes went wide, became… alive.

"Elliroth?" she asked. I could see her trying to battle back the wild, insane hope that had started to bubble up inside of her; her hands clasped together over her chest and she swallowed as, looking around briefly, she asked, "I'm _dead?_ "

I nodded.

She stumbled back a step, appearing to be in utter shock. I didn't say anything for a moment; I wasn't in a big rush. Though April's echo had only lasted for about ten minutes, she had only been a human; she hadn't been alive for nearly as long as Fraye had. She hadn't made nearly as big of an impression on the universe. Fraye, on the other hand… well, of course she'd made an impression. And quite a large one at that: Loki had told me that this projection could easily last for over an hour.

Fraye would survive in any way, even past that which killed her. Just as she had before.

I was surprised that she remembered me, though. Most echoes didn't remember their death- April hadn't, and Fraye obviously hadn't- but I hadn't thought that Fraye had been around me and the other Avengers long enough for us to make any impression at all. It led me to ask, "What's the last thing you remember?"

She looked at me, as though surprised that I was even still here. But then she considered my question. I didn't know why; I hadn't thought she would cooperate just yet. But then she smiled her old, wicked smile and stood. I didn't move away this time, didn't freak out as she came towards me.

"Oh," she said, bubbly and sweet even now. And then her finger went to the scar on my shoulder; she traced it, her phantom fingers hovering just above my skin. "The beginning of _this,_ " She purred.

In my head, I heard Loki's teeth clench; but her words neither frightened nor infuriated me. In fact, they fascinated me: Fraye _knew_ she was dead. She _knew_ this, and even now… even now, she was _trying_ to make me angry, _trying_ to make me kill her again. It was… incredible.

She really was in that much pain; even now. Even as nothing but an echo.

I shrugged my shoulder so that my sleeve covered the scar a little better. "I see," I replied coldly, trying to remember when she had first started her 'work' on that shoulder. From what little sense I'd had of time, this meant that she remembered a surprisingly large amount of my torture; almost a month.

She smiled sweetly in reply. "So was it you?" She asked. "Did _you_ end it, my dear Natalie?" Her voice gained a mocking, childlike quality, unbearably innocent. "I have a hard time believing that; you were so _powerless_ at the time, after all…"

"It wasn't just me," I answered stiffly. "Loki and I both killed you. Using the pathway that _you_ created in our heads."

Her eyes lit up. They weren't dead anymore, that was for certain. "Really," She said, sounding… fascinated. But then, after a brief moment of bliss, her eyes suddenly narrowed on me.

She took a step towards me, and then another… and then two more, swifter and surer than the first, until her emaciated face was a scant half-inch from mine. There was anger in her features. I'd only seen anger-true, pure _rage-_ on Fraye's face a few times in my life. Each time had not been… pleasant.

"So why," she asked, in a voice befitting to a destroyer of worlds, "Did you bring me _back?_ "

I swallowed against a lump that had suddenly materialized in my throat, but my mouth was too dry to swallow well. My scars were all prickling and stinging, as though in anticipation of her next strike, her next attempt to carve them ever deeper into my skin.

But, somehow, I held my ground. And I looked her in the eye.

"Because I need you to tell me everything you know about the Faden."

She blinked. It was, perhaps, the first time that I'd ever seen Fraye surprised- though, admittedly, she'd looked pretty shocked right before she'd died, too. But she was usually ten steps ahead of everyone else. I guess the loss of her telepathy had been a bigger blow than I'd have thought.

But then she was smiling again. "Oh?" She inquired, quite sweetly, almost benevolently. "And do tell why _you,_ of all people, are seeking immortality." She leaned in just a little closer. If she was still alive, I would've felt her breath on my face; but somehow, even though she wasn't, I could smell that old scent: blood and ash, mingled together on her skin and in her hair. The smell of shadow and death. "Don't tell me that Loki's little _ghost_ managed to _convince_ him that he was _in love_ with you!" She giggled maniacally, and I felt my stomach go queasy. Fraye may have lost her telepathy, but she was still clever. She wasn't a few steps ahead yet, perhaps… but she was certainly catching up.

It had been Fraye's stance from the beginning, hadn't it? That Loki wasn't in love with me, that the link made him _think_ that he was… that the absence of our connection had made him delirious, to the point where he would have believed _anything_ in order to get me back…

But it wasn't true. And I couldn't let Fraye put unnecessary doubts in my head. Steeling myself, I walked forwards a few steps, straight through her. As I did so- and as I turned around to face her again- I said, quite coldly, "Actually, you convinced him of that. Because you forced him to live without me." Turning my eyes to ice, I growled, "Not that it's any business of yours."

She seemed undaunted by my hostility; or by the fact that I had walked right through her. Leaning against the crystalline walls and smiling a feline smile, she purred, "And he's so desperate to keep you that he'd go to the Faden themselves to ensure your continued survival." Her eyes gleamed. "How touching."

A cutting remark came to my lips, then. The worst that I had. "Wouldn't you have?" I asked in a voice of cool contempt. "To save your little brother?"

Her little brother. The one she always saw, the one who was locked in her mind, the one who had helped us kill her. Her eyes flicked to that corner, locked there for a second, and returned to me, dying. Obviously, she still saw her ghosts.

She didn't reply, not with words. But her fingers twitched in a way that I had long ago learned to recognize; a swift wrist flick, beckoning the shadows forwards, calling them to her. But they did not respond to her. Not this time.

It was enough for me to know I'd hit a nerve, and a wave of sick, perverse pleasure washed through me. Coasting along on that wave, I stated my facts as simply as I could.

"Now," I told the Shadow that I had Slain. "Here's the deal, Fraye: I gave you what you wanted. I killed you. I ended that silence for you. And now, you're going to give me what _I_ want." I folded my arms. "You're going to tell me everything that you know about the Faden."

Her eyebrow rose, her smile curling on her face. "Oh, Natalie dear," she said; and her words were almost maternal. "You've grown up so much."

"Everything. Now."

She considered me for a long moment. I met her eyes with no hesitation, unwavering in my resolve. And, at last, she sighed- a soft little sound- and leaned back against the wall. The jutting crystals stabbed straight through her; naturally, with no effect.

"I suppose that is fair," she mused. "And what is owed."

Her jewel-black eyes flitted to the scars on my forearm. I found myself wishing that I'd had the foresight to cover them; but, with that out of the question, I instead straightened, wearing them with pride. When her gaze turned back to me, she inquired, "So what is it that you wish to know about them?"

"Anything. Everything. Whatever you've heard or seen to prove that they're real."

"Oh, they're real," she said; and again, I saw anger momentarily flash across her face. But then I blinked, and it was gone, leaving me to wonder if it had ever been there at all. "That much is undeniable."

At my questioning, _do-continue_ look, she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Natalie Frost. I thought you were supposed to be a psychiatrist."

I bristled. She straightened from where she was leaning, so that the crystals were no longer jutting out of her, and she strode towards me. " _Think,_ mortal." She looked almost… annoyed. Almost. There was still a lot of syrupy sweetness in her voice. "Think of me as your _patient._ Contemplate what it would mean to me to learn that there is a creature out there in the universe that can grant immortality."

My eyebrows furrowed. That didn't make sense. Fraye wanted to die; not live forever.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Because if there was something powerful enough to grant immortality to the mortal… then maybe the process could be reversed.

Maybe the Faden would have been powerful enough to kill what could not be killed. To make the immortal mortal, to destroy the indestructible.

Fraye saw the _aha_ moment on my face, and she nodded approvingly. "Good," she whispered, her words slithering into my ear. And then she turned away, her long hair flowing out behind her, fanning out just briefly before settling back on her shoulders. "I was young. Two, maybe two and a half centuries." She looked down to her hands, to the blood encrusted beneath her nails. "I had already destroyed enough worlds to know two things: the first, that this destruction would be my only escape until death found me…" And here she smiled at me, almost an acknowledgement, a glow of pride touching her features as she looked my way, looked at me, the death who had found her. "And the second: a legend. The tales of the Faden.

"Fates, Faden, Fades, the Guardians and Sentinels of Time… I heard these names, again and again. Whispers and rumors, leading me on. And always with the same two common themes: that they could grant immortality, or kill you where you stood… and that it was impossible to find them without a guide: someone who had already been there once. Who had already seen them once before. Who knew the path.

"So I found a guide. I… persuaded him to take me to the Fades. And so he did; and I traveled a great distance down his circuitous route until I was forced to turn back."

I felt my heart sink. If Fraye had found the journey that impossible, then what hope did _we_ have?

 _The hope of Shadowslayers,_ Loki replied soothingly. It made me feel better, but only a little; it was true that we had killed Fraye, that we had proven ourselves to be more powerful than she was… but I still suspected a fluke. Even now.

Hell, especially now.

"The journey was that dangerous?" I asked of the woman I'd murdered. She giggled.

"Dangerous? Darling, if it was a matter of _danger,_ do you think I ever would have _stopped?_ " She shook her head fiercely. "No. It wasn't dangerous for me. My guide, however… well, he was far weaker. He died on the trek."

"So you never actually… _saw_ the Faden."

"No."

My heart flip-flopped. I wasn't sure how I felt about that; I mean, it didn't necessarily _prove_ anything. Fraye was still convinced that they _existed…_

"I saw the Gray."

My eyebrows shot up.

Fraye giggled again- those girlish, hebephrenic little giggles- and went to sit on the bench. Leaning back on her hands, kicking out her feet, she looked up to the ceiling and carried on. Her eyes were distant; even more so than usual.

"I was out searching for another guide; and finding it hopeless. But I was determined. I was looking frantically. And I would have continued looking, had he not appeared: the Gray Man, one of the three Sentinels of Time himself."

Fraye spat on the ground. I'd seen more rage on her face in these past few minutes than I'd ever seen in her entire lifetime. "I asked him to finish it. I begged him. I _attacked_ him, tried to provoke him into killing me out of self-defense. And he just swatted me aside as though I were nothing." She laughed. It was bitter and harsh and grating, not sweet. Not kind. Not anything that resembled the Fraye of before. "Can you imagine that, Frost? He thought of _me_ as a _nothing._ It was so _blissfully_ perfect." She shook her head. "Until he told me that I couldn't die. Not yet."

" _What?_ " I demanded in a snarl. Fraye's eyes flitted to me, gleaming as I snapped, "You're a _planet-killer!_ You _murdered…_ _ **billions**_ of innocent people! _**Trillions!**_ _Trillions of Trillions!_ If he knew you would do that, if he _knew_ your 'future'… why wouldn't he have _stopped_ you?!"

For a brief second, it was almost as though Fraye and I were chatting schoolgirls, gossiping about a boy who had broken her heart for no damn reason. Like this 'Gray Man' was just a loser who had broken up with her through text. She turned to the side of her bench so that she could lean forwards on her hands instead, leaning towards me. "I know! It was ridiculous! He should have… should have…"

And then the light died from her eyes. She spat on the floor again, turning away from me.

"He should have." Her voice had gone quiet. Childlike again. "But he refused.

"'I'm sorry, Fraye,' he said. 'I truly am. But this universe _needs_ evil, as much as it needs good. These worlds need an evil to prevail against; an evil to make them stronger. To help them fight, or to help them unite against a common cause.'"

My throat grew thick, and I swallowed. This Fate's words were hitting a little too close to home; and I was forcibly reminded of a certain treaty that had been created between three worlds due to that exact evil. Fraye didn't seem to notice my discomfort- not that she would have cared- and she continued, seemingly oblivious.

"He said, 'You are that evil. You _have_ to be that evil. Countless worlds will fall at your hand… and countless more will rise from those ashes. Death and chaos have a place in this universe, just as all other things. You are necessary.'" She shook her head again, slowly. "I _begged_ him, Natalie," she whispered, turning her wide, glittering black eyes to me. They were misted over with tears. "I _begged_ him to end it. To stop this from occurring. And he just _apologized._ And he wouldn't… he wouldn't even tell me _when_ I would die, he just… unleashed me. Let me out onto those worlds that he claimed to be protecting." Her hands gripped the sides of her bench, and when she spoke again, her words were a growl, dangerous and feral, wild and overgrown with bloodied, thorny weeds. "He let _me_ out," she emphasized.

It was the voice of my torturer at her darkest moments, her monster within, and it chilled me to the bone. My scars weren't the only one that stung this time; even Loki's began to burn at this sound. She turned away and barked out a laugh that was just as bloodied. "The Faden are real, Natalie Frost. But they won't save you. They are… Fate. And fate is cruel."

I felt a chill run through me at Fraye's dark premonition; but I pushed it aside. I tried to let the words sink in for a long moment, standing where I was and trying to let myself think with my former torturer in the room. But I was interrupted by her soft, near silent musings.

"Can you imagine it, Natalie?" She asked, her words quiet and cracking. "Can you _imagine_ it? Being a child- already a murderer, but a _child-_ and being told… that you are the greatest evil of the universe? That your only function in life… the only thing that you will ever do… is _be_ that evil?" she laughed, a gentle sound, but when she looked to me… her face became manic once more, a wild grin crossing her lips.

"Oh," She said quietly. "But of course you do. You were told that too, weren't you?"

She was goading me again. I turned away, as though that might shield me from the stinger that the words buried into my chest.

And then I started stalking towards the door. I had my answers now. There was no more reason to speak to her.

"Wait!" she cried; and her voice was desperate. I almost ignored her- what could she say to me that I would want to listen to?- but I didn't. I turned. I looked at her.

Her face was pleading, even if her eyes had returned to the land of the dead. "Wait," she repeated. "I… Before you go. Natalie, please. I have to ask you something."

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. "And why would I answer?" I demanded.

She looked away.

"Please."

A little girl's voice. Quiet. Deceptive. Broken. Treacherous. Shattered.

 _A lie._

I folded my arms over my chest. "What." I didn't even make the word a question. I didn't bother.

She closed her eyes. "You're going to stop powering Elliroth. You're going to banish me back to the blackness."

"Yes."

"Don't."

"Why not?"

Her eyes- filled with tears now, but still deader than they had been when she was _actually_ a corpse- locked on mine. "I've no right to ask this of you, Natalie," she whispered.

"You're probably right."

She soldiered on as though I had said nothing. "But… I can't. I can't close my eyes. I can't let myself fade… knowing that I could wake up again." A single tear sparkled down her cheek. "Please. I know that I have a limited time in Elliroth; keep me here, just for now, and let that time run out. Let me fade forever. You'll never have to see me again, you'll never…never…" She looked up to me, losing her words, and eventually, she just… cracked.

"Please… Please just let this _end!_ "

 _I remembered a silence. I remembered a heartbreak unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I remembered a screaming in my head that came from the lack of noise, and I remembered a melody in the back of my mind, a ruinous song, one that called to me. I remembered what it was like to be Fraye. She put herself in my head and I remembered what it was to live in the way that she did. And it was not living. It wasn't even death._

 _It was pure and utter oblivion._

I looked at the miserable, broken, twisted figure of my torturer.

Natalie Frost would have done it. Natalie, the pizza girl, would have agreed in a heartbeat. She would have stayed with Fraye for that hour that she had left, would have kept her company until she faded forever. The would-be psychiatrist would have comforted her when she needed it, would have done everything in her power to help her hear something other than silence, just until it was over; or until life was worth living again.

But I wasn't Natalie Frost anymore. I wasn't the pizza girl, or the wanna-be psychiatrist.

And it was Natalie Laufeyson, Shadowslayer and queen of Jotunheim, who stepped forwards now. It was the Avenger who spoke. "No."

She looked up to me. The desperation had returned. I leaned forwards, now a bare inch from her face. And I displayed the scars on my arm, yanked up the sleeve on my shoulder, showed off her artwork that she had carved into me.

"I think you misunderstand, Fraye Burns," I said, my voice melting. "I didn't kill you out of kindness. I didn't do it to end this for you. I did it to end it for _me._ "

I straightened. She stared.

"You wouldn't…" She whispered, so quietly. "You never… what happened to yo-"

But then she stopped herself. And through the tears, she smiled. Not a sweet smile; not a benevolent one. A smile of recognition.

"Of course," She breathed. " _I_ happened." And then she giggled. "The evil that the universe needed, hmm?"

And then she tilted her head back and laughed. And she kept laughing. Louder and louder, she laughed, and as I walked out of the room, she continued. She carried on laughing until she was screaming, until she was howling, until I could hear her echoing voice, even outside of the Chamber itself, sobbing out her hysterical laughter.

I walked up to Loki. His face was very pale; and as I nodded to him, he released the magic that was powering Elliroth. It died down; and with it, the sound of her laughing screams faded, once and for all.

Without a word, I walked on. And without a word, Loki followed.

* * *

 _I look into the mirror and see my own, fractured red eyes staring back at me. It is a twisted, demented wreck of a creature that stares back at me, more monster than man. It has done terrible things. It has accomplished terrible deeds._

 _These deeds are mine. And I search for help- hold me up, help me along, carry me forwards into this future, someone,_ _ **anyone**_ _\- and I see great men. Men made of light and power itself, men from the sky who hold entire worlds at their fingertips. They are familiar. They are family. If I lean on them, they will help me onwards. They will carry me to my future. If only I trust them. If only I allow them to help me._

 _But… these creatures of light… they are so brilliant… so bright… the shadows they cast are long and dark. It is so lonely, so cold, being carried on by these men… being helped along by these creatures of light. I leave them behind; after all, the shadows are what made this monster._

 _I search for another to help me. Another to save me. Someone who can carry me- a twisted wreck- to a better place. A better future. Who can help me along. I see none. Only grey figures, empty and lifeless, devoid of personality. They cannot help me. They cannot save me._

 _Then I see her, sitting in the back of her room. She is small and twisted. She is broken. A little child. A little child who was called a monster, who is crying into her lacerated arms. My name is carved there, in her skin. She is frail and fragile and delicate, but she is small. Too small to compare to me. And though her skin glows, just faintly, it is not enough. Though she seems to be the sun to me, her light is a strange one; and it casts no shadow._

" _You," I say, quietly. "Please. Help me." I reach out to her._

 _And this broken little glass girl- who cannot save herself, let alone another, who can barely stand on her own feet- looks to me._

" _Save me."_

 _She smiles sadly and dries her brown eyes. "Of course, Loki," she promises, and she stands on shattered feet, walking towards me. Because she is a monster. She does not deserve to stand on her own; she must help others. And so she steps forwards, and she braces herself against me, and she helps to carry me along to my brighter future-_ _ **our**_ _brighter future- together._

 _But… when we finally arrive at this future… what will she be?_

" _I didn't kill you out of kindness," she'd said. "I didn't do it to end this for you. I did it to end it for_ _ **me**_ _."_

 _And then she'd walked away while the person who broke her laughed and screamed…_

For perhaps the first time, Loki and I burst awake at the same time.

It didn't take much- barely a look at each other's eyes- to determine that it was the same nightmare that had woken us both. Loki's dream, perhaps, his originally, but shared by us both. That had never happened before. Never.

He turned away from me, saying not a word. And I said nothing in return. We sat in the silence, in the dark, with only my glowing skin to illuminate us.

Loki swung his legs over his side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. "Frost, I-"

"I did the right thing, Loki," I said, before he could carry on. Looking away, at the ground, I almost pleaded, "I know I did."

"Of course you didn't, Natalie," he whispered. "But you did what you _had_ to do." He didn't turn to me. "And I have little room to judge, regardless," he added in a soft breath.

I sighed heavily. "It wasn't enough to kill her, Loki," I murmured. "I wanted her dead… but that wasn't enough. Because she wanted that, too." I closed my eyes. "I had to make her suffer. One last time."

"For what she did."

"Yes."

"And what about what I've done, Frost?"

I curled up into a little ball on the bed. Silent for a long time, I finally muttered, "That's… more complicated. And you know it."

He glanced at me over his shoulder. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to face him. "I know I'm a hypocrite," I said quietly. "You don't have to tell me. But… I've been able to forgive you because… because you were _sorry._ Because… because you're _trying._ Trying to _fix_ Fraye… Loki, I can't, I just can't, I can't do anything to make her happy, I can't even let her _die,_ it's just…" my hands started to shake, and I shut my eyes so tightly that tears began to squeeze out. "That's what I _should_ do. In order to let her _go._ But… I can't. Not just yet. Not just yet."

I turned to him. "She took me _away from you,_ " I pleaded, trying to make him understand. And it worked; his eyes softened.

"I know, Natalie," he said, reaching behind himself so that he could put an arm around me. I scooted towards him so that I could fall into the embrace. "I know."

We were silent, sitting in the dark together, for a long time, my glow sending soft sparkles of light across the crystal walls. I wrapped my arm around Loki's waist.

"We'll have forever, Loki," I muttered. "We'll have thousands of years. Someday… someday. Someday I'll do it. But not… not just yet." I looked up to him and smiled sadly. "I'm only human, you know."

He looked down at me. His thumb stroked my shoulder. I could feel his thoughts spinning about: _I should never have… She can't do this… so fragile… I keep forgetting how_ _ **delicate**_ _she is…_

I lifted a finger up to his lips, shushing him. "Shhh…. Don't. No more. No more insecurities."

He looked down at me. I gave him a peck on the lips, then broke out of the hug and went back to my side of the bed, burying myself beneath the sheets. "We'll figure it out, Loki," I promised. "Just not today. Not tonight."

And he slowly lowered himself back down beside me, wrapping a warm arm around my waist. He closed his eyes, and I closed mine, listening to his thoughts, allowing them to lull me back to sleep. But he stayed awake and thinking, long into the night; thinking of the little glass girl… and the shattered woman she'd become.

* * *

"Be careful out there," Stark said gruffly as I wrapped my arms around him.

I grinned. "Will do. And remember: cyborgs are people, too. Have hope, for someday, you too may get the right to vote."

He rolled his eyes and tried to ruffle my hair. It felt natural to just throw sarcastic jabs at Tony for no reason; even when I was leaving on a journey that may just kill me. Loki was clasping hands with Hawkeye, a firm handshake between the two of them that was surprisingly friendly. The two of them had been on better terms than he had been with half of the other Avengers.

I hugged Banner next. "Look after these freaks for me, okay?"

"So long as you look after yours." He replied, with a pointed look towards Loki, Puck, and Fenrir. It was hard to say which group was weirder.

"Naturally."

Thor and Loki shared a man-hug while Clint walked up next to me. We did a quick secret handshake (spies have the best) before I pulled him into a hug, too. "See you soon, Big Bird."

"Take care, Bubbles."

Thor cracked some vertebrae when he swooped me into a hug. "Return safely, Lady Laufeyson," he urged me (he alone had found the transition to my new name an easy feat). "And bring home many a tale of adventure!"

I laughed breathlessly. "Only if you stop breaking my ribs," I wheezed; and he released me with a sheepish grin. Loki conversed briefly with Stark and Banner, shaking each of their hands in turn as I looked to Steve.

He shook my hand. I rolled my eyes, pulled him closer to me, and forced him into a hug. "Be back before you know it," I promised.

"Looking forward to it," he said. I felt a little twinge of pain, looking at the Soldier. We'd been so close, in those first days. And now…

But then he smiled warmly, a sun-smile that lit up the world. "Take care, Solider Girl."

I smiled back even as I blushed. It had been a rare nickname from him; but it had always made me happy when he said that. Perhaps there was still a camaraderie between us after all.

Natasha stepped forwards last, embracing me in a way that I'm certain she never would with anyone else; at least, not without a weapon's check first, or unless she was undercover. All she said- all she _needed_ to say- was, "Be safe."

"Am I ever not?"

"Are you ever actually?"

I grinned. She smiled wryly back, and I hugged her again for good measure.

I stepped back, kicking aside the trash that Tony had left on the floor. Tiff and Ben had already said their goodbyes- as had Vicky and Jade, who thought I was going on vacation- but the Avengers had thrown a full-blown farewell party; and now, as it drew to a close, they, too, were giving their final goodbyes. Stark looked between me and Loki while Puck and Fenrir waited for us at a polite distance; far enough that they couldn't really hear what we were saying.

"All right," Stark said at last, heaving a sigh. "I've been good for years, you two, but, let's face it. The pair of you could die out there, and there's a lot of questions that I want answers to." He considered, then amended, "Okay, really just one."

Loki arched an eyebrow while I looked at him, curious and puzzled. Stark gestured between the two of us. "You two are like, mentally connected, right? Telepathically in each other's heads at all times, with your emotions all blending together."

"Yes…" I said slowly, drawing the word out, unsure of where he was going with this. He looked between us one more time before looking to Loki.

"So what the _hell_ happens when _she's_ PMSing?"

For a second, the entire group froze. And then I saw Steve's face begin to turn red just as I felt mine heating up to the same color. Hawkeye bit his lip so hard that I _knew_ he was trying not to laugh, and Natasha's eyes went to me, silently questioning if she had the go-ahead on Stark's kill order. Bruce looked away, as though embarrassed for everyone involved in this conversation and trying to be discreet. Thor blinked- clearly the idea had never occurred to him- and he looked to Bruce as though questioning whether such matters were regularly and openly discussed on Midgard.

Just as I was about to imagine a few death threats for Stark that are too ghastly to ever put to paper, Loki cleared his throat. He wasn't blushing, not like I was. His face was as smooth and neutral as ever.

He stepped forwards, walking casually up next to Stark; and then he whispered in the other man's ear, shielding his lips from sight with the back of his hand. Stark went pale. My ears went as red as my face.

" _That_ is a blatant _lie!"_ I protested, my voice going high-pitched. Hawkeye stopped trying to hide it and busted out laughing. Stark's face stopped going pale and went grey instead (and no, I will _not_ write down what Loki said. It was embarrassing enough the first time). But of course the Trickster would be unfazed by another's idiocy/attempts to humiliate him. He always knew exactly how to turn things around, give him the upper hand again.

Looking smug with his lie- the most outrageous one he had that he was sure he could make Stark believe- Loki returned to my side. I glared up at him, thinking all sorts of horrible thoughts; and he only calmed me down by reminding me that Stark would take such words to his very grave.

I started pushing Loki towards the portal, gesturing for Fenrir and Puck to follow. "You know what, thank you, Stark. You may have just spoiled our last time together. Screw you."

He didn't respond. His hands were trembling. Natasha got tired of Hawkeye's laughter and pulled his arm up behind his back; he kept laughing even through the hold, and she grabbed Stark's arm, twisting it as well. She still had both boys in this grip as I waved goodbye to the other, _saner_ Avengers and shoved Loki, the half-breed, and the Wyr Wolf back through the portal, back into Jotunheim.

 _You are so going to regret that,_ I told Loki; and even my mental voice sounded tight, like I was speaking through my teeth. _Remember, you're stuck with me for an indefinite amount of time._

 _As are you, with me,_ he replied, rather more calmly than I thought the situation merited. As I fumed, he kissed the top of my head. _Relax, Frost. We'll soon be far away from Stark and his..._ he sniffed. _Rather_ _ **tasteless**_ _jokes._

I grumbled inwardly for a while longer while Puck and Fenrir shared looks. That was odd; the two of them usually hated each other. But today… well, we were starting a dangerous journey together. We would have to trust each other with our lives. They might as well start now.

I turned to Puck. "All right, Kid," I said darkly. "Where to first?"

* * *

 **A/N: Okay! I updated a little sooner than and with a shorter chapter than I normally would of, but that's because of a very good reason:**

 **Real life has gotten… kind of complicated, and I'm going to be going away for a few months (around 3, though I may be back sooner). I'll be unable to update during this time, but hopefully I'll be able to pretty quickly after I get back. Hopefully.**

 **Anyway. Thank you for understanding, and please, review! It'll really help me to know that you're all still there!**


	13. The Shadowslayers Get Busy

**A/N: Hey look! I'm back!**

 **Sorry for the short chapter, I wanted to post this as soon as possible. ^^; The next one should be longer but who even knows with me and my notoriously inconsistent self. *shrug***

 **Oh, also: there might be some... suggestive scenes? A little more than suggestive, BUT! I shall not deviate from the 'T' rating that I put on this. So if you're squeamish about that kind of thing... sorry. But it shouldn't be too bad. :)**

* * *

It started with a portal, courtesy of my husband and his still-connected-to-the-Tesseract self.

And it ended with a planet; one directed to us by a half-breed who may or may not have been our prisoner.

Loki slouched to one side, winded and drained. I immediately crossed to his side, flashing warning looks at Fenrir and Puck as they exited the passageway between worlds that Loki had created. Fenrir seemed entirely unfazed by the strange method of travel- I'm sure he'd been through stranger- and Puck wasn't even paying attention to Loki and his vulnerable state; he was scouting the planet, eyeing the star constellations up above us. He half-smiled on his first look through; and then gave us the other half of that smile after the second. "We're here," he pronounced simply.

Clearly, he wasn't saying that we had already arrived at the home of the Faden; but rather, at a planet some distance away. Apparently, there was a limited number of ways to arrive at the Faden's homeworld; and this planet housed one of them. We'd known as much when Loki created the portal; but we were still already a long way from home.

Puck eyed Loki and his wearied condition. Fenrir moved forward to assist his old friend, and I all but bared my teeth and growled at him. "There's a town not far ahead," Puck told us, tightening the straps of his traveling pack, adjusting it on his shoulders. He looked oddly comfortable in it, oddly… _right._ Particularly with his bow, which was attached to that pack as well; with the quiver on the other side. We'd questioned the wisdom of allowing him his weapons, but in the end, we needed him to stay alive; and if this journey was in any way as dangerous as it had been made out to be, then he would need his weaponry. "It's a friendly world," he carried on. "A planet colonized for the sole purpose of establishing trade routes between a number of worlds and species. We'll blend in perfectly."

I nodded. 'Blending in' was a worry with all inhabited worlds; to the point that Loki had even made certain to travel in his Asgardian form and clothing; while inter-species relationships were certainly not uncommon in the entirety of the universe, he believed we would attract less attention as a couple if we all looked relatively the same. Puck, on the other hand, had proclaimed this to be 'stupid' and had refused- even when his king demanded it- to shift back into his human form. Loki had eventually let it rest; as Fenrir looked mostly human-ish; and if we only had one in our group who looked completely different from the others, perhaps it wouldn't be noticed so much. I kinda thought that he was over-thinking it, but I hadn't said anything.

"We'll rest there for a night or so," Fenrir put in, observing the glimmering lights of the town ahead. "Gather our bearings." As Loki looked ready to protest, the shape-shifter added sharply, "You need your magic, Loki. You _must_ be at your full strength. The Faden will still be there in two days; and your mortal will surely survive that long."

"He has a point," I told Loki, still helping Fenrir to support him, despite the fact that he'd called me Loki's 'mortal'. I guessed, in a way, it was true; even if it _was_ super offensive. Loki looked to me and nodded, too tired to carry on arguing.

We had pretty much landed in the middle of a field, full of an alien grass- _alien grass._ Can you imagine that?- so it was a fair trek to the small city in the distance. And, worse still, it was a trek filled with awkward silence. I suppose no one really knew what to say; I mean, what _could_ we say to each other? No one here was really _friends,_ except for me and Loki- and, admittedly, Loki and Fenrir. And, well, pretty much _everyone_ distrusted _Puck…_

Except for me.

I shook the thought out of my head while I helped Loki onwards. No. That wasn't true. Puck had given me all the reasons that I needed to distrust him. I didn't need any more. I would never trust him again, I wasn't that stupid, I was smarter than that, I was…

 _Natasha trusted him._

 _She told me to go along with this._

I forced the thoughts aside, starting to hum- a little breathlessly- as I walked, in an effort to clear the thoughts out of my head. They were soon replaced with lyrics- rhyming words on simple beats that I could relate to- that I repeated, over and over, in my head.

We made it to the town just as the sun set. It was a beautiful sight; a sort of pale blue, streaked with a dark sapphire, very unlike the sunsets we'd get at home. I wondered, briefly, how we were able to breathe here; and I asked Puck what the atmospheric conditions were supposed to be.

He'd grinned. "Great, isn't it? I told you, Natalie, it's a trade route." Loki bristled a little at Puck's informal attitude, but I let it slide. It was interesting, to see the slave façade die away, once and for all. "It's a planet that was colonized- specifically _designed-_ to accommodate every type of creature." He stirred a hand in the air. "The very molecules you're breathing in shift and morph. They're smart enough to know what you, specifically, breathe. Sure, the air doesn't always taste so great… but at least its _breathable._ "

It _was_ great. It was incredibly interesting. But my eyebrows furrowed. "And the homeworld of the Fadens?"

His lips twitched down, and he turned away. "The Fades will know you're coming," he answered quietly. "That's one worry you don't need to have."

I didn't entirely understand that- how could they change an entire planet's atmosphere, just to help out its travelers?- but I said nothing. In fact, no one said anything. The four of us carried on- into the bustling streets- without a word. It wasn't until we were deep in the heart of the town when I thought to question how Puck knew about this 'smart air' in the first place.

But then… the guide was supposed to have traveled this path before. That was something the legends had in common; the guides had always been to the Faden at least once before.

I wondered why Puck, of all people, would seek out people who could grant immortality. And, of course, what he had found there.

Puck lead us to a place that looked, for all intents and purposes, like an information desk. It was in the middle of town, the central hub of the place; and even with the sun set, even with the world lit only by the floating, artificial globules of light, it was busy; filled with people of all species. I found my eyes wandering about, searching everyone, scanning their features, their clothing… their occasional weaponry. I was immediately enthralled, entirely fascinated, and I almost ignored Puck's explanation about this information center.

"It's well-traveled," he was saying. "It was _built_ for travel. So people need a place to go to ask all of their questions."

There was a number of short lines leading away from this 'help desk', and we joined one of them. We were met shortly thereafter by a woman with overlarge, glittering purple eyes and skin the color of paper. She didn't lack a nose, but it was small; and her mouth appeared to be a mechanical voice box; which had a wire leading off into what must have been her ear. Fenrir seemed oddly at ease here, and he was the one who stepped forwards, asking in a kind voice where a few travelers might have a place to stay for the night. He even threw in a little bit of a flirty voice, but she appeared immune; she pointed us in the right direction, gave us the name of said place, and reached out to help her next customer.

Soon enough, we were 'booking rooms', as it were. The process was a little more complicated, but things were pretty much the same as they were back on Earth; though here, we were asked to give our names, species and a blood sample. Fenrir found nothing odd in this, so when they pricked his finger with a needle and pressed it onto a small technological pad, I did the same; albeit with a look of distaste. The man who was working said needle gave me a little smile.

"No one likes needles," he whispered to me, conspiratorially, to which I grimaced.

"Oh, no," I said, my words dripping sarcasm. "They're my best friends."

He blinked, the translator in his ear taking a second… and then he chuckled. "Well, that's everything, Mrs… Laufeyson?"

"That's me."

"Right then," he smiled cheerfully- I assume, his features were distinctly alien and he had something that looked like gills on his cheeks, making it a bit hard to tell- and turned to Loki. "And now the husband: Loki, is i-?"

He trailed off. His eyes returned to the pad; and then he moved, slowly, to the desk; he glanced at the names that we had scribbled into the forms there and swallowed.

"Loki Laufeyson?" He breathed. His eyes flicked to me. "And Natalie… Forgive me… are you… Natalie _Frost?_ "

Oh, boy.

Loki and I shared a look while Fenrir laughed quietly; a rumbling growl of a sound that started somewhere deep inside of his chest. "Told you two that you were famous," He muttered into our ears, before moving back a little and complaining under his breath, "No one listens to the Wyrs…"

I cleared my throat. "Aye," I answered the man. He actually stumbled back a step in surprise.

He gathered his hands to his chest; a movement that I didn't recognize, but immediately understood had some sort of significance; like a wave hello or a high five. But it seemed more like a salute or a bow to me; particularly when he babbled, "Forgive me, _Shaisa,_ I did not recognize you sooner. I would never have believed… Oh, you should not be traveling these roads!" His eyes flicked to mine as the thought occurred to him, then darted away, quickly, like he was afraid to hold my gaze for too long. "It is _far_ too dangerous! There is many a creature who would wish to see you dead, if only to claim the glory of holding your head!" His voice trailed off into a little squeak at the end, there. I looked to Fenrir.

" _Shaisa?"_ I mouthed.

"It's a term of great respect," he murmured back, very quietly. "One that is not used lightly."

A little shiver went through me. Loki held himself a little higher, recognizing that, even here, he had not escaped the necessity to retain his kingly appearance. "You needn't worry for us," he said, almost coldly. There was a somewhat bitter edge to his words. "We are quite capable of handling ourselves."

The man looked mortified. "Of… Of course, _Shaisa,_ of course… Forgive me… I was overstepping…"

I shot Loki a look, which he answered with a flash of a _what-did-I-do-wrong-now_ glare. I turned to the man and said, a little more gently, "Of course you weren't. Thank you, for your concern. It is appreciated."

He did the gesture again. Fenrir mumbled something about it being a close approximation to a bow. "Of course. Anything- _anything-_ for the Shadowslayers."

A small, hollow, cold feeling stirred in my gut. Is this what I got? For being lucky enough to kill Fraye? Lucky enough to have the right form of telepathy, to have a link with a man I truly loved? Lucky enough to be tortured, and tortured in that exact way? Was this the fame I received for all of that… _luck?_

 _Shadowslayer._ Was that the name that would follow me, to my grave and beyond?

Even _here?_

The man was already offering better accommodations, claiming that it was all free of charge, and Loki countered him with quiet protests.

"We are trying not to gain attention," he explained, quite politely, though I could see that he was feeling somewhat agitated. The portal had taken a lot out of him; and while he was feeling better from that, it was true that he'd been looking forward to some time alone. Or, at least, time alone with me; apparently, the constant tension between us, the half-breed, and the Wyr Wolf had put some strain on Loki as much as it had on me. "We can hardly avoid attention if we sleep for free in your best accommodations, would you not agree?"

The man considered this for a long moment before nodding. "Very well, _shaisa,"_ he replied solemnly. "You may have whatever accommodations you choose. But I will not accept payment. I cannot." His eyes turned to me; a somewhat friendlier face. "My sister was adopted from one of the worlds indebted to Fraye. She fled her world in desperation. Now she can return in peace." He lowered his eyes. They seemed to catch on my sleeve, which hid my scars from sight. "You have paid enough for this universe," he added, very quietly. But despite his gentle manner and tone, he was adamant; he refused to allow us to pay him anything. Even Puck and Fenrir were allowed in for free.

"We shan't make it a habit," I told Loki, who tried to nod solemn agreement…but an older, more Trickster-y part of him was very intrigued by this development, and was definitely thinking along the lines of: _free stuff yay!_

Fenrir and Puck retreated to their respective rooms; I didn't worry about Puck running off. In spite of my hearty protests, Loki had somehow managed to convince me into accepting a duty that I had abandoned long ago; that of a Keeper. The Key on my wrist- very like the one that had glowed on my wrist long ago, before Fraye had shattered it, and very like the dead, powerless one on Loki's wrist now- bound me to the half-breed. He would go nowhere without my consent. And if he did… well, there would be consequences.

So Loki and I were free to go to our room by ourselves, without worry of what Puck might do whilst he was alone. He sighed, immediately heading for the bed, melting there and closing his eyes. I grinned and let him nap for a while, pulling out a book- I'd had the foresight to bring a few, thankfully- and reading in a corner chair while I waited for him to wake up again.

After about an hour or so, however, I got bored with that, and I explored the room briefly. Basically, it looked like every hotel room ever made; just a little more… alien. The lamps weren't lamps so much as hovering gems of light, the walls seemed to be made of something organic, and everything else seemed to be a blend of different technologies. There was even a TV, such as it was; and I played around with it for a while before giving it up as a lost cause; every time I tried to figure it out, I ended up playing some seriously loud music and almost woke my sleeping husband.

So, after a while, still feeling bored out of my wits, I exited the room. It appeared that I wasn't the only one going stir-crazy: Puck and Fenrir were both in the hall, sitting across from each other. As I walked towards them, they both shut up just a little too quickly; and I got the distinct impression that they'd just been talking about me.

"Interesting conversation?" I asked, sitting myself down.

"Not hardly," Fenrir replied with a haughty sniff, standing as I sat. Giving Puck a curt nod, he exited the hallway, leaving me a little flustered. " _He's_ polite," I grumbled sardonically.

Puck smirked. "He doesn't feel the need to be polite, m'lady."

I looked to the former slave-if he ever really _was_ a slave to begin with; all evidence said 'no'- and I studied him briefly. He seemed very casual, very… relaxed. As though this was all going according to schedule, as though this was all according to plan… It burned me up a little, to think that this boy was acting so flippant, so careless… when I was still such an emotional wreck, so uncertain of whether or not I could trust him… so uncertain of why I really _wanted_ to…

We were quiet for a while; and Puck seemed to notice the harsh looks I was giving him. He picked, absently, at the cracks in the tile floor, his eyes distant.

He broke the silence first.

"I _do_ want to help you, m'lady."

I didn't bother mincing words. "Why?" I tilted my head to the side. "Why would _you_ ever want to help _me?_ "

"It's what I'm supposed to do," he answered. It was clearly meant to be a simple reply- his shrug indicated as much- but it only made everything more convoluted, more complex. I rubbed my forehead with two fingers.

"And why… why are you _supposed_ to do it?" I asked, looking up to him. "Why are you _supposed_ to help me?"

He smiled, shrugging again. "Why are we supposed to do anything, m'lady?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I growled, standing. "Keep me in the dark and feed me bullshit. I'm fine with that. At least I know where I stand with that." I turned on my heel, but the sound of Puck's exasperated sigh kept me from moving forwards.

"Natalie," he said; and the word held a silent scolding. "Please. It's not just about _you,_ all right?" He sighed again, and I turned back to him, watching as he ran both blue hands down his face. "I'm _trying_ to help you, but… but there's a lot at stake, here. One wrong word to the wrong person… and things could go bad, very quickly."

"And you think _I'm_ the wrong person?" I inquired.

"Quite frankly, there isn't a _right_ person. It's not _about_ right and wrong, good and evil. Not anymore." He turned away, looking at the wall.

"Then what _is_ it about?"

His eyes flicked back to me. And for a second… for a second, I think I saw what those eyes had seen. I think I saw it, lurking in the red; past, present and future. All the half-breed had ever done and would ever do, all tumbling about. For just one second… I saw what he saw. I saw… agony.

"The universe," he breathed. "It's about the universe, Natalie Laufeyson. It's about what will save it. And what will destroy it."

And then he looked away, and the feeling vanished. I shuddered briefly; I continued to forget, but this kid… this kid was powerful. This kid was dangerous.

This kid was _wrong._

He rebelled against all laws of the universe. And here, he claimed to be protecting it. At least, I assumed.

And then he smiled, waving a hand about. "Ah, what does it matter?" he asked; and again, his cheer returned to him. "I'll prove myself to you soon enough. I'll prove what I can be."

And then, without another word, he stood and left the hallway, retreating into his room.

I didn't want to return to my own room just yet; so I stayed out there in the hallway. I watched the occasional person pass- giving me funny looks as they went- and I sat on the floor and I just… thought. It didn't matter _what_ I thought about. Just that I _did._ Over and over again, thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts, tumbling about: Puck. Fenrir. The Avengers, all left behind. What was to come. The Faden.

 _Fraye's face…_

I blinked that aside, but not before the words circled about in my head one more time: " _They are… Fate. And Fate is cruel."_

I'd heard the words echoing in my dreams at night; and truth be told, they terrified me. Because they terrified Fraye. And with how similar Fraye and I had been becoming of late…

I shoved the thoughts away again, more forcefully this time. Unfortunately, it was a little _too_ forcefully; Loki felt the stirring in my emotions, and similarly stirred from his nap. I winced; I hadn't meant to wake him.

Quickly, I stood, walking back into the room. _It's all right,_ I tried to say. _Go back to sleep._

He closed his eyes; and for a moment, he did _try_ to sleep. But then I settled down next to him, and his eyes flitted open again. He blinked a few times, looking to me as I placed myself next to him, trying to be near, trying to keep away the nightmares… he smirked a little before turning away, sitting upright. I sighed, but it was too late; he was permanently awake now.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, clearing his vision. I considered.

"An hour or two, give or take," I replied after a second. He turned back to me, and I apologized quickly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

He gave his usual mild half-shrug. "I should have woken sooner," he lamented, his words tainted by his smile. I contemplated what that meant for a moment, then decided that it didn't matter enough if he didn't want to elaborate on it.

Instead, I asked, "Feeling better?"

"Much," he answered simply. And it was true; I could feel it. His limbs didn't feel so heavy, his mouth wasn't so dry, he was not quite so breathless… magic was making its way back into his veins, his earlier tiredness banished. So he hadn't needed a day or two's rest after all; just a nap.

"We could keep going," I offered. "Get a head start on our journey to… wherever the heck we're going next."

"We could," he agreed slowly. "But we've been given a night's stay here for free, as you recall. It would be a shame to throw away such a… 'gift.'"

I winced. I didn't like the idea of seeing the guy at the front desk's face if we walked out now. "True enough," I admitted. Loki sat back down on the bed next to me, and I automatically sat forwards for a second so that he could put his arm around my shoulders, pull me into his side. "So what should we do instead?" I asked, then gestured to the TV/entertainment system that I'd found so difficult to figure out earlier. "We could rent a movie," I joked lamely. "Or we could go out, explore some planet stuff. There's a lot of things neither of us has ever seen before." In truth, I _was_ interested in all of that; but I knew that there was going to be a lot of travel in our future; and I didn't really want to go running around today and end up having to fight for my life tomorrow.

"We could," Loki agreed again. And then he glanced to the open door. "But then… this may be our last time alone together for quite some time. It would be a shame to waste it away."

I blinked, eyebrows furrowing. Well, that much was true. We were pretty much going to be stuck with Fenrir and Puck for quite a while; possibly for the rest of our lives. The thought was suddenly and abruptly _very_ unappealing, and I frowned deeply. "Ugh. You've got a point there." I curled up a little closer to him, feeling his lips press into my hair. "So what do _you_ think we should do, then?"

I heard him sigh, just a little, quietly. Like there was something very obvious right in front of my face, and I was missing it. It was a sigh he actually used around me pretty often. I pulled back, giving him a look, confused.

He gave me his best _you-can't-possibly-be-this-dense-human_ look and flicked my forehead gently, making me feel about a thousand times stupider then I already did. But it seemed to rattle something around in me; because the idea hit, and my eyes widened.

"Oh," I breathed.

Loki's smirk came back, this time in full force. _It has a brain,_ He thought, softly but sarcastically; however, fortunately for him, he had not actually _meant_ for me to hear the affectionate almost-insult, so I ignored it. I instead listened to his real voice, as he leaned forwards, his eyes on me, his forehead touching mine… and he whispered softly, "I'm certain that we can find _something_ for a _married couple_ to do…"

"Oh," I repeated, my eyes going wider; fully understanding his meaning this time. "Oh! Right!"

Loki rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning; so I knew my stupidity hadn't _totally_ ruined everything. I lurched to my feet. "Um… give me a second!" I said.

He laughed quietly as I went to the door, just a little too quickly; and then, as I stood by it, I slowed my heart rate down, taking a few deep breaths, pulling myself together again.

And then, feeling a smile on my face that I couldn't quite stop, I turned back to him, closing the door behind me.

Once we were closed off to the world, however, and I turned back to Loki, my chest tightened again. He was wearing his best secretive smile, and it made my heart pound. We'd never had a honeymoon, I remembered. This was it. This was all we'd get.

And I was desperate to have it.

Yet still, looking into those beautiful green eyes of his, I felt incredibly nervous. "G-Give me a minute," I said, and he gestured with one hand for me to continue. I ran to my backpack and grabbed the skimpiest thing I had brought- as an afterthought, almost a joke to myself, because when was I going to have the chance to use it?- and I ran into the alien equivalent of a bathroom.

There was a shower in there that did not look _too_ complex to use, a toilet that looked relatively simple, and above all, a gigantic mirror. I stripped quickly, holding the skimpy piece of lingerie up to my skin, as though I was actually wearing the stupid thing.

My mouth went dry. All those bones sticking out, all that skin shown, all those scars that shone through…

I swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside forcefully. Loki had seen my scars before. Loki still loved me. That was what mattered here: Loki loved me and I loved him and so none of those scars, none of it mattered.

Still, I couldn't quite make myself put on the little bit of clothing. Instead, I headed into the shower, pressing five different buttons before one of them finally did what I wanted and the water started flowing.

I stood there for a long minute, my mind closed off to Loki's so that I could have a minute to _think._ I hurried through the shower as fast as I could, but my nerves were stretched taut and my fingers and toes were tingling from hyperventilation. Still, with shaking hands, I managed to wash myself off completely, washing away the day's sweat and dirt from our brief time of travel.

I turned off the water, standing there for a long moment, taking a deep breath. Then I pulled back the shower curtain, grabbing a towel and wrapping myself up in it. I glanced in the mirror. I hadn't washed my hair, so while it was slightly wet, I didn't have the excuse that I needed to dry it with the odd excuse for a hairdryer that was here.

No more excuses. Nothing more to do. I took a breath and exhaled it slowly, then headed to where I had set the lingerie on the counter and-

And…

Son of a _bitch._

"LOKI!" I shouted through the door. "Give me back my _clothes!"_

"I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about, Frost."

Like hell he didn't. I glanced around- even my old, dirty clothes were gone. He'd certainly been thorough. I was reminded of a time, eons ago, after the Battle of Shadows, where he'd forced me to reveal all my wounds using this very tactic… Clever bastard.

I glared at myself in the mirror and finally decided I was mad enough not to care if he saw me wrapped up in a towel. I shoved the door open and stormed into the room, where he lay lazily on the bed, the skimpy outfit in his hands.

"I must admit, it would've been nice to see you in this," he said, a sly grin on his face as he held it up, as though trying to see it on me. "But I doubt you'd have the courage to wear it."

I felt my face heat up, and it wasn't just the aftereffects of the hot shower. In part, it was because he was seeing me in a towel. In part, it was his examination of my bare skin. But mostly? It was because he was right. I would've spent the better part of an hour in that bathroom and we both knew it.

Still, I wasn't going to admit that to _him._ "Give me back my clothes," I growled, my eyes flicking around to find my pack, hoping there was another decent set of clothes in _there._ No good; Loki had hidden it, banished it to whatever ether he magically sent everything to.

"Now why would I do that?" He asked, his words a purr.

"Give. Them. Back."

His eyes gleamed. He held out his hand, the lingerie dangling from the end of his fingers. "Go on, then," He whispered, a sensual sound that sent shivers up my spine. "Take them."

Like I was that stupid. The second I took it back, he'd grab my arm, pull me to him, and it was all over.

So I did something _else._ Something just as stupid, but stupidly enough, worked in my favor.

I dropped the towel around me.

He froze, and I snatched the lingerie from his hand. Victorious but embarrassed as all hell, I turned away from him, grabbing the towel off the floor and wrapping it back around me.

There was a soft chuckle behind me. It grew slowly, from quiet snicker to all-out laughter. And then I heard him stand, heard his soft footsteps on the ground, coming up behind me. He took my hair in his hands and brushed it aside, kissing me directly on the back of my neck. I shivered, but it was a good shiver, tingles traveling all the way down my spine.

"I do believe," he said slowly, quietly, "That I love you, Natalie Laufeyson."

"You better," I growled, but as his arms wrapped around me, I allowed myself to fall back into his chest, and when he tried to reach over my shoulder to kiss my lips, I turned, meeting him halfway.

* * *

I woke up early the next morning, long before Loki did. I took a moment to study his sleeping face, brushing his hair back from his face as I smiled. He looked so peaceful. So calm.

Me, on the other hand… I blushed as I remembered the night before. It had been… amazing. Telepathically connected as we were, there had been no moments of awkwardness, no seconds of doubt. We knew what we were, and we were one, fused together not by battle this time, but by love.

And the scars? Never had we fallen in love with our own scar tissue before that night. We had planted kisses all along the names written in our skin, falling in love with each other all over again.

It had been… flawless.

I stood, got dressed, and left the room, not bothering to leave a note for him. Why would I need to? We were _telepaths_ , for realms' sake.

I pulled my hair back behind my head as I left, and pulled my elbow-length fingerless glove up on one arm to hide my scars. Even if I _did_ feel comfortable with them on full display, they were too conspicuous. Too recognizable. They were so obviously Shadow Scars, after all…

I battled a sigh as I made my way out of the hotel/inn/whatever thing that we'd been staying in. I didn't _want_ to be recognized. I didn't _want_ people to know who I was. I wanted to be left _alone._

I started to run, keeping a watchful eye on my turns, on where, precisely, I was. As much as I knew I would be walking all day today, I also knew that I couldn't get through the rest of the day without a few minutes alone, on a run, away from the entire entourage; including Loki. Mostly because I had a lot of seriously deep shit to think about; and a vast majority of it was about him. Or, at least, partially related.

So I started running. And I started thinking. And maybe I even started _over_ thinking.

I was away from Earth. Away from the Avengers. Away from Jotunheim. Starting today, I would be off this planet and in an empty place; a world far away from all the people that I could hurt. All the people who could hurt me.

That was part of the reason why I was out here, wasn't it? So that I didn't have an opportunity to hurt anyone, whenever I got… well, psycho. Whenever I lost it. Because it was inevitable that I _would_ lose it.

Especially after Elliroth…

I sighed to myself, even as I ran. I'd wanted to see Fraye in Elliroth to _help_ me. To make things _better._ But every time I thought back to it, thought back to what I'd done, a pit formed in my stomach. It only went to show that, no matter what I'd done to kill her, no matter how much I was trying to forget her… it was really me who was still keeping her alive.

I forgave people. That was what I did; that was what the _shrink_ in me did. I'd forgiven Loki; and that had been what brought us together. That had _healed_ him, had healed us _both._ I should've forgiven Fraye. I should have been _able_ to forgive Fraye. If only to rid myself of her.

But I couldn't. I'd changed too much.

 _You're the line._

I rubbed my eyes, slowing down for a moment so that I wouldn't run into anything. I was the line. That was what Natasha had told me, so long ago. The line between hero and Avenger. But now I wasn't _that_ anymore, now I _was_ the Avenger, and Avengers were the line between good and bad, hero and villain… we were constantly skirting that edge, and I had to wonder… I couldn't _help_ but wonder: which edge was I closer to?

I shivered and kept running. Because that was really what I'd been doing from the beginning, wasn't it? Running. Running from Fraye, running from Elliroth, running from my friends…

I circled around the 'hotel' a few times, then gradually made my way back. Loki was still asleep; but as I walked down the hallway to our rooms, wiping sweat from my forehead, I saw that he was the only one: Fenrir and Puck were again conversing quietly in the hallway. And they were, yet again, discussing me; or so I assumed. They shut up pretty quickly as they saw me, after all.

"We ready?" I asked, yanking my glove up further on my arm.

"Aye," Puck answered with a curt nod. "We leave on your command, your majesty."

I nodded back, ignoring the 'your majesty'. It still felt odd, having people call me that; but I was, after all, the Queen now.

Maybe I was running from that, too.

I went into the room where Loki remained, sleeping peacefully. I smiled a little as I shook him awake.

His green eyes flitted open, finding mine. I leaned over so that my face was about an inch from his and grinned. "Hey, you."

He smirked softly, regarding me for a long few moments as I perched on the edge of the bed next to him. At last, he nodded in a very satisfied way. "Yes."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Yes." He agreed, sitting upright and giving me a swift peck on the cheek. "I _could_ get very used to waking up to _this_ every day for the rest of my life."

Heat prickled in my cheeks, but I kept grinning and gave him a quick kiss back, this one on the lips. "Then we'd best get moving," I warned him. "We've still got a long journey ahead if we want that to become a reality."

He fell back on the bed. "Oh, must we?" He lamented momentarily.

"We must," I chimed, moving to the other side of the room to gather my pack together. I tossed him some clothes as I did so. "Come on, get up, get dressed, get moving!"

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed. I made sure that we had everything from our traveling bags while he did so, and handed his to him once he'd finished, throwing my backpack over my shoulders. Tightening the straps, I looked to him; back in his old Asgardian wear again (sans helmet and battle gear). I looked him up and down, and he did the same to me, and I nodded at him. He glanced to the door, then back to the room, wistfully.

"You know…" he said slowly, linking his hand in mine. "We never _did_ have a proper honeymoon." His eyes glinted. "We could… _change_ that. Stay here for a while."

My face warmed up again, and I rolled my eyes. Shaking my head, I said firmly, "Tempting, but no. The others are waiting for us; we have to keep moving."

He waved a hand, dismissing this. "We could send Puck and Fenrir off for a while. Even back to Jotunheim, if necessary."

I put a hand on my hip, chiding him with my eyes. "We'll have thousands of years to have a honeymoon, if this works."

"And we'll have no time at all if it doesn't," he countered.

I shook my head again. "No. We can't." As the shine started to die out of his eyes a little bit, I added, "I'm sorry, but we _can't_. We've had a few weeks already; even if we weren't technically on a 'honeymoon'. We've already been married for a while. And we'll still be married when we get back." I squeezed his left hand, feeling the cold metal of his ring. "And we _will be back._ Okay?"

Still looking a little wistful, he nodded. "Very well," he agreed. "Onwards, then, to immortality."

I smiled sadly at him, and I kept our hands linked as we exited the room together.

* * *

I remained quiet as Puck led us onwards. I knew that Loki noticed, that he was somewhat worried, but I wasn't quite able to tell him _why_ I was being so silent. In truth, I wasn't certain that _I_ knew. There was _something,_ though, some question that was going through my mind…

I blew it off, buried it away, and tried to focus on the forest that grew all around us. There had been signs all around it, warning travelers that this was one of the few mildly dangerous places on this world; and while there were tours of this 'untouched wilderness' available, you shouldn't risk going in alone. Not that anyone had _stopped_ us, when _we_ went in; so it couldn't have been _too_ dangerous.

Puck soldiered on through a winding path, a direction invisible to my eyes; but, apparently, _he_ knew where he was going, for his every step was confident and sure. Fenrir followed after Puck, with Loki and I bringing up the rear; and, occasionally, I saw the two conversing in low tones. But I could never quite catch what they were actually saying.

Loki's hand slid in mine. "So what's troubling you?" He asked at last; and I looked to him. I'd managed to distract myself from my own silence, but as he brought it up again, I found a prickling need to think, to consider something, to question all of the problems that were rising up in the back of my mind…

"I'm gonna be immortal," I said, looking forwards, away from him, and into the lush greenery that surrounded us. It was all… _green._ Like, crazily _green._ I mean, sure, there was an oddly colored fruit here and there, but for the most part… _green._ "It brings up a lot of new things to think about."

"Such as?"

My stomach twisted, and I stuffed my other hand- the one that was not holding his- deep into my pocket. "Well… if I'm immortal… and _you're_ immortal… then there's no reason why our kids wouldn't be, right?"

He faltered, missing a step, momentarily losing his balance. He regained it quickly, striding on as though nothing was wrong… but I saw that his face was a little paler than it had been. I looked away, so that I no longer had to look at his expression, so I could get the words out without seeing that look on his face. "That was one of the main reasons why you didn't want to have them, right? Because you were afraid they wouldn't be immortal?"

He didn't answer me for a moment, leaving me to listen to the silence of the forest, interspersed with the sounds of our fellow travelers' footsteps and the scuttling of alien animals. "Aye…" Loki replied at last, in a very measured tone. "That was _one_ of the reasons." There was only the barest hint of emphasis on the word 'one'.

"So… I mean… we could do it, couldn't we?" I asked, feeling almost humiliatingly hopeful. "We could have kids. Someday." I squeezed his hand again. "Right?"

He didn't reply, not for the longest time; so, I prodded him again, "Loki?" But, just as he opened his mouth, he was spared from answering by the sound of Puck's voice, a short distance ahead: "Over here!"

Loki seemed absurdly relieved, and he sped up to reach Puck, giving me a ' _sorry-we'll-have-to-talk-later'_ grimace as he did so. His had slipped out of mine, and I managed to grasp his fingertips for half a second before he was gone.

I bit my lip as my heart sank. Okay. That wasn't the reaction I'd been hoping for.

I picked up the pace and arrived beside Puck and Fenrir a few moments after my husband did. Puck was gesturing to a cave. " _Voila._ Our way out of here."

I quirked an eyebrow. "A cave?"

He grinned wickedly. "Don't you wish, m'lady."

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I'd seen that look on Puck's face before, during training. It usually preceded great pain.

Loki was surveying the cave a little _too_ interestedly; not that the others would've been able to tell. He took it in for a long moment, looking it up and down, and waved a silver-laced hand in front of the cave's mouth. A responsive glow stirred in the heart of the darkness, a multicolored shimmer that flitted about weakly from inside of the cavern. "Interesting," he mused to himself.

It _was_ interesting. I looked deep into the heart of the I-wished-it-was-a-cave and chewed on my lip. "And I assume that we're going inside?"

Puck's grin became just a little meaner. "You assume correctly, m'lady."

"Well then. Ladies first." I said, gesturing for the half-breed to go ahead.

"Age before beauty, your majesty," he responded, quite light-heartedly, and gesturing for _me_ to go. I had no idea if the kid was actually younger than me or not, but I went along with his game anyway, putting a hand on my hip.

Fenrir rolled his eyes as I opened my mouth to respond to Puck's quips; the Wyr Wolf strode ahead of us, muttering, "Realms' sake," under his breath. Loki, smirking softly, seeming to have forgotten our conversation already, followed his friend.

Puck and I shared a long look before, sticking my nose up high in the air, stiffening my back, and giving a pompous, squeaky little, "Hmmpf!" I walked through the cave entrance. Puck chuckled softly as he followed, close behind.

The cave was immediately dark. From the first three steps, it was as though the light at the far end had simply… vanished. Loki opened his mouth to ask me if I could shed a little light on our surroundings, but he needn't have bothered; I had already flared my glow. I detested the dark.

Not that the light was giving us any more information. On all sides, there seemed to just be rock. Grey rock, dark grey or light grey or medium grey, some solid and some crumbling, on all sides, leading us deeper and deeper into the dark chasm ahead.

"Well," I remarked. "This is interesting."

All three of my companions rolled their eyes. "It's just up ahead," Puck told us; and you know, he was right.

The cave-which was more like a tunnel, really- opened up ahead of us, into a vast expanse. It was startlingly abrupt; one second, I was squeezing through the colorless tunnel, and the next, I was standing in a chasm wide enough to accommodate all four of us, standing side by side.

In that chasm, which was precisely the same color rock as the rest of the tunnel, was an enormous pool of water. I dimmed my glow; it was clearly unneeded now, as the water seemed to be lit up by some undetermined source. A clear blue that I just _knew_ had to be ice-cold, its surface shone like the surface of a polished mirror, and I could see my reflection- and the reflections of my fellow travelers- in it. There were no ripples, and though the water was perfectly crystal-clear, I couldn't see the bottom.

It was obvious, however, that this place was filled with magic; even if it weren't for the light that shone from the water. The pool went straight down; you could see the edges on either side, so that it looked like an underwater version of the tunnel we had just exited, with one major difference. The rock that formed the edges of this pool wasn't grey and rough; it was perfectly smooth and white, its surface gleaming with a thousand different colors, like an opal. These colors were constantly shifting, changing, morphing into other hues; all soft blues and greens and the occasional pale pinks and oranges. Shimmering gold occasionally sparked through the water- and the opal edges- in lightning crackles or soft wisps. I whistled; it was very obviously the thing that had responded to Loki's magic when he had tested the cave from outside.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Puck mused momentarily, and I have to admit, I agreed. It _was_ beautiful. The half-breed turned to me. "But it's also the end. After this point, we're on the planet of the Faden. There's no turning back from here, no easy road back home. After this…"

Loki put a firm hand on the boy's shoulder before he could carry on. "Enough," he ordered. "We are all here aware of the risks. We carry on."

Puck looked to Fenrir and myself in turn; we both nodded our agreement. I adjusted my backpack and stepped forwards, steeling myself. "Well, then," I announced. "I guess we're going for a swim."

Puck nodded. "That's the general gist of it," he agreed. "Though I'd keep your guard up. Once we're on the other side, there's no telling what we might encounter. The Faden are pretty serious about their security systems."

I was busy considering the water in front of me, so it took me almost half a minute to realize that Puck had been joking. It wasn't funny enough to laugh, though, so I simply continued contemplating the water ahead of me.

"So who goes first?" I asked. A bold Fenrir stepped forwards, bowing low.

"Allow me, Shadowslayers," he said; and I did not miss the mocking edge in his voice as he said the words, nor the way that his eyes were on Loki as he bowed, gleaming and filled with mirth. Like he couldn't, in all seriousness, bow to the boy that he'd grown up with. Loki seemed to understand that, because he was smirking right back at his old friend.

As the Wyr Wolf stepped to the edge of the pool, preparing to step-or jump- in, Puck took his shoulder. "You may wish to transform," he warned the other man. "As I said; we haven't the slightest idea of what lies ahead."

Fenrir regarded this for a long moment, his black-and-gold eyes studying the half-breed. But then he shrugged Puck's blue hand off of his shoulder roughly. "I can handle myself," he growled, his fingernails extending into claws, his canine teeth extending and sharpening as well. Before Puck could respond, Fenrir jumped into the pool, sliding beneath the water and swimming forwards for only a moment; in a flash of gold-red light, he disappeared.

Puck muttered under his breath in a language I didn't recognize before saying, "I'll go next," and executing a swift, certain dive beneath the waves. The light that swallowed him was a silver-blue, leaving Loki and I behind.

He looked to me swiftly. We didn't have to talk-out loud or in our heads- to determine that he would go next. I watched him sink beneath the still ripple-less surface of the pool and disappear into a shimmer of green-gold.

I took a deep breath, once more shifting my supplies, making sure everything was secure on my back. Bracing myself, gathering together all of my courage, I took a running start and did a cannonball, plunging into the water. I let myself sink into shimmering water, gloriously beautiful as it was, and closed my eyes as sparks of green and silver swallowed me whole.

The cave was silent; the water and the stones made no sound. For a long time, it remained that way; silent and entirely still. Nothing moved or breathed inside this cavern of magic and light.

And then, from the entrance, clicking footsteps began to softly echo within the walls.

The footsteps grew closer to the cave. Silent paw steps, accented by the click of claws against grey stone. A white, ghostly shadow of a figure arrived at the pool, sniffing the water gently.

Carefully, it stepped with one scarred paw into the pool; and then the other. And then the other two, until it, also, sank beneath the surface. Its shimmering reflection atop of the water gleamed with the light of twin silver-black eyes.

And, in a flash of color that precisely mirrored those eyes- silver and black- it vanished.

Something was following.

* * *

" _The Hilllllsss are alliiiiivvveee… with the sound of muuuuuussssiiicc!"_

I twirled around a few times, singing aloud despite the poor quality of my voice. Frankly, I hadn't been able to resist; as soon as we'd made our way to the top of this hill- 'gaining higher ground', as it were- I'd found the song bursting out of my lungs. Loki rolled his eyes to me, opening his mouth to tell me off, when Puck skipped up to my side and joined in, " _With songs they have sunnngg… for a thousand yeeears!"_

The two of us cracked up laughing while Loki and Fenrir exchanged long-suffering looks. And then, because I only knew the first line of that song, I immediately started singing another. _"How do you solve a problem like Mariaaaa?"_

Puck took my hand and started swaying to the beat in an exaggerated way; almost dancing. I immediately went along with his choreography. I was momentarily unable to care that he was supposed to be my enemy; the two of us had been friends for months, had fallen into this easy rhythm. It was hard to break away from that, no matter _how_ tense the situation. " _How do you hold a moonbeam in your haaand?"_

" _Raindrops on Roses!"_

" _And whiskers on kittens!"_

" _Bright copper kettles!"_

" _And warm woolen mittens!"_

I was opening my mouth to sing about brown paper packages and their strings when Fenrir turned to my husband and asked, "Are they always like this?"

"Invariably," was the exhausted reply.

We'd already been traveling for half a day, and while my feet were beginning to get tired, I was actually in relatively good spirits. Puck and I turned away and _harrumpf_ ed, concluding amongst ourselves that they were just jealous of our mad singing skills.

"You actually have a pretty great singing voice, kid," I noted after we'd temporarily quieted. It was true; the boy could hit high notes that even a female soprano would have a hard time reaching, _and_ he made it sound good.

He grinned in return. "And you have an abysmal one, m'lady," he responded with a great deal of cheerfulness. "You should never sing in public again."

"Duly noted." I grinned back. I had a hard time finding the ability to be insulted. It was just a joke, right? A harmless, stupid joke.

It _had_ to be _harmless._

Puck and I walked together as Loki and Fenrir talked in low tones. The half-breed and I were silent; and while I occasionally found myself listening in on my husband's conversation, I mostly blanked out, staring off into the distance, not really paying attention to anything. My feet were already sore, but compared to standing around in fancy high heels at one of those Asgardian parties, this was a breeze.

"If _she's_ over there… then why…?" Puck broke the silence, muttering quietly to himself, his red eyes scanning first the rocky, sloping landscape behind us, and then the partially forested terrain ahead. His eyes narrowed; and I saw them sparking with magic as he attempted to enhance his senses.

"What's wrong?" I asked, immediately on the alert, but dropping my voice, so as to not worry the other members of our party. Loki was laughing, momentarily oblivious, and I didn't want to ruin that for him.

Puck's eyes slid to me, watching me from the side. "We're being watched," he replied in a murmur. His eyes flicked to the trees at the bottom of the slope ahead of us. I followed his gaze, seeing nothing… but now that he mentioned it, there was a prickle on the back of my neck that just wouldn't go away.

 _Like someone walked over my grave…_ No, I _knew_ that feeling, and this wasn't it. It was damn close, though. "The Faden?" I whispered.

Puck shook his head an inch, side to side. "Doubtful. I mean, obviously _they're_ watching us… but they wouldn't be _here._ It's too soon; we only just got to this world. We haven't… 'proven ourselves' yet."

I felt my lip tug down at the corner. I didn't like the idea of 'proving myself' to a creature that had refused to kill Fraye- that had left her alive as a 'necessary evil'- and thus condemned countless numbers into extinction.

 _And where would I be_ _ **without**_ _her?_ The thought popped into my brain without my permission and refused to be dislodged. _Asgard, Jotunheim, Midgard…_ _ **all**_ _of the nine realms benefitted from her existence. A few thousands died… but millions more are protected by our alliance. In the bigger scheme of things…_

A chill walked down my spine, and, though I couldn't rid myself of the thought entirely, I forced myself to avoid the issue… for now. "So who, then?" I inquired. The prickle on the back of my neck got worse.

"I'm not sure," Puck replied. He looked deeply troubled by this fact. His eyes went back to the slopes behind us, and he admitted in a quiet voice, "I've known that we were being followed for quite some time… but that was to be expected…" His voice grew quieter, trailed off, as he watched the world behind him. As he-eventually- turned back to me, he was confronted by my best _oh-really_ look, and he backpedaled swiftly. "Nothing for you to be concerned about, your majesty; if it's a threat, it's one that can be easily neutralized."

"So why is it _following_ us?" I growled; and, unexpectedly, he bristled.

" _She,_ " he snapped.

"Excuse me?"

" _She_ is following. Not _it._ And _she_ has her purposes for being here, just like we do." As I gave him a stern glare, he returned it with an equally severe one of us own. "Need to know, Miss Frost," he added acerbically.

"Laufeyson," I corrected. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, _"Hardly._ "

My own eyes narrowed. "Don't _roll your eyes_ at _me,_ kid. And you'd best believe that I _need to know."_

Puck stared ahead, his eyes gleaming. "Believe _me._ You _don't._ All _you_ need to know is who your enemies _are._ " His eyes went forward, to where he believed our unknown watcher was hiding. "Let _me_ worry about the rest."

I scowled, looking back at Loki and Fenrir. If they two of them hadn't been so involved in their conversation- if Loki hadn't been smiling- I probably would've grabbed the half-breed by the throat and ordered him to tell me everything. But, frankly, I knew that wouldn't work; and I didn't want Loki's conversation to be interrupted for no reason.

So I lagged behind a bit, allowing Puck to move forwards, staring daggers at the grassy ground beneath me. If Puck didn't want to tell me, there had to be a good reason for it. At least, I _hoped_ that there had to be one.

Still, oddly enough, I _trusted_ that there would be one. Which meant that this watcher could be one of a few limited options:

First, she could be one of the Faden. I believed that only the White Specter was female; but she could easily be following us to keep an eye on our progress. But then, why would she _need_ to? The Guardians of Time must have other ways to see things than just their eyes.

Second, she could be someone _working_ for the Faden. Someone who kept their eyes on coming travelers for them; perhaps unnecessarily, but then, I didn't know what was and was _not_ 'necessary' for the Faden. Perhaps they needed others. Perhaps there were other species on this planet, who assisted the Faden; the entire surface of this world couldn't be empty of life, after all; or, at least, it _shouldn't_ be.

Third, she was a guide, bringing along another Traveler. This was the most innocent explanation; though it was possible that this 'guide' was a fraud, and was simply following us because she had no idea where she was truly going.

Fourth, she could be- in the simplest of terms- a fan. Someone who wanted to see the Shadowslayers- see them, talk to them, help them- and was watching from afar. Someone who had tasked herself with protecting the people who had protected the universe.

Or, lastly, she could be what I dreaded most; a complete unknown. Something that Puck knew and I did not, a part of some phenomena outside of my knowledge. A conspiracy, perhaps, or something less dangerous.

In any case, there was little I could do; save for trying to confront the watcher myself, which I doubted I would be capable of. For now, it was best to just let things play out.

Sometimes, that's the best that even an Avenger can do.

* * *

We made camp that night at the sloping base of the hills, with the forested terrain just ahead of us. There was a clearing wide enough to more than accommodate the four of us, and so we all placed our things down and settled in for the night.

Puck and Fenrir spaced themselves out so that Loki and I were- relatively speaking- alone. Both the Wyr Wolf and the half-breed were out of earshot- though, admittedly, Fenrir had to move fairly far away for that to be possible- which Loki did not seem too happy about. But he was hiding his glumness, hoping that I didn't notice, hoping that I didn't start the conversation that he'd been dreading since this morning.

Of course, I was going to start it _anyway._ He really should've known better than to think I'd have forgotten.

But I waited until everyone had settled in; it wasn't very cold out, so no one started a fire, relying on the shimmering globe of magic that Loki had set in the middle of the clearing to illuminate us. Fenrir was already curled up and almost asleep, while Puck looked up and watched the stars with fascinated eyes. He toyed with an object in his hand, a fused hunk of metal, turning it about in his blue fingers absentmindedly. I helped Loki set up a few blankets, laying one on the ground and draping the other over us both. We curled up close to each other in silence, and Loki also turned his eyes to the stars.

It was always fascinating, to me, to see the stars of other worlds. To know that I was observing stars that I probably couldn't even _see_ from Earth, even if I had the world's most powerful telescope. I studied the night sky with my husband for a long moment before ruining the peaceful atmosphere; but it was best to ruin it quickly, before it became impossible to do so.

I cleared my throat. Loki knew immediately what I was going to say, the conversation that I would bring up; and he sighed even before the words were out of my mouth.

"You're not getting off that easily, you know," I said; and though I said it flatly, and a little bit confrontationally, I did not say it altogether _unkindly._ His green eyes turned away, and he nodded his resignation.

"I know," he admitted. We were quiet. I waited him out for a moment, waited for him to elaborate, to say something more… but after a moment, I realized that I would have to be the one to carry on, if I wanted this conversation to go further.

I took his hand and, running my thumb across his, I asked, "Don't you _want_ to have kids, Loki?"

He looked to me and didn't respond. I guess that was really all the answer I needed, but it still made my stomach sink, and I still found myself waiting for a reply that would never come. It was only when he turned away again that I let myself accept that it really, truly _wouldn't._

I swallowed hard and tried to come to grips with that. I'd been going along the assumption that he simply had a few worries with having kids: that they wouldn't be immortal, that the world would hate them for what they were, for being _our_ children… after all, we saw what these worlds thought of half-breeds already, every time someone spoke against–or even tried to strike- Puck. But I hadn't thought that he just didn't _want_ them at all.

"Why not?" I asked, looking down to my hands and picking at my fingernails. He looked to me and smiled ruefully.

"If only I could say, Frost," he replied in a dry tone. "If only I could tell you."

"And why _can't_ you?" I asked, somewhat startled by this answer. After all, we told each other everything. Why couldn't he tell me _this?_ Why couldn't he tell me something so… so _important?_

He met my eyes, looking deep inside of me; I tried to look right back at him, tried to hold his gaze. His hand reached up and cupped my cheek delicately, holding my face steady. His face was strangely sad and pensive as he confessed, "Because I already know exactly what you would say in response. I know precisely how you would convince me- and you _would_ convince me, there is no denying that." He chuckled a sad chuckle, shook his head, still holding my cheek in his cold hand. "I've lost the will to refuse you, Frost; but in this… just this _once…_ I must." He released me, turning away again and moving his hand away, so that it could rest on mine. "It is… unfortunately… the right thing." He shot me that same rueful smile again. "Even if you would not believe that it is."

Well _that_ was maddeningly unhelpful. I felt my lips tug downwards and looked away as Loki turned his gaze to the starry night sky. That didn't make any _sense._ Why would us not having _kids_ be the 'right thing'? Particularly if he knew that _I_ thought it was- that I would continue thinking that it was all right, that it wasn't a _bad_ thing- even if he gave me his reasoning?

I scowled and considered blowing this up into an argument… but quite frankly, I was a little exhausted by all of the arguing I'd done recently. And Loki and I hadn't gotten into a fight- not a really heated one, anyway- since we'd gotten married. We would have years to fight like idiots; no sense in getting a head start now.

So I bit my lip and I held back the arguments; but not without one final, parting warning. Pulling my hand out of his, I said, "All right. Fine. If that's the way you want it to be." I crossed my arms. "But I hope you understand that I will- in no way- be giving up on this. Unless you give me a reason- and a damn _good_ one- I'm not going to stop. Maybe _you_ don't want kids, but… well, I _do._ And I'm gonna have a few _thousand_ years to wear you down."

He didn't seem to upset by this threat. Indeed, he actually smiled softly. Putting his arm around my shoulder, he forcibly yanked me into his side, making me almost fall over onto him. Rubbing my shoulder gently with his hand, he replied, "And I shall have a few thousand years to do the same, my dear Miss Frost."

And then we were silent, watching the foreign stars.

* * *

"You don't have to do this, you know."

The white shadow froze in her tracks, stiffening in the light of the three moons. She whirled onto the speaker, hackles rising, a growl building in her throat. Her claws dug into the dirt, her scarred lips pulling back from her gleaming white teeth. But it was only him. And who else should she have expected? The half-breed had so obviously been watching her, as she had watched him.

She turned to Puck, stepping up to him, her black nose less than an inch from his face. But he was cloaked in serenity; even with the Wyr Wolf's teeth so close to his fragile skin, the half-breed was perfectly calm. There was no fear to be found in him; the only emotion in the boy's eyes was _pity_.

He reached forward with a gentle hand, running two fingers along the scarring on her muzzle. She continued to growl, but he seemed unfazed. He must have known that Fenrir had ordered her not to touch him. And when Fenrir ordered, she obeyed. Even if she loathed this boy. Even if she wished to destroy him. Even if she knew- better than Fenrir- that he was a _threat._

 _No,_ she chided herself silently. _Fenrir knows better than I do. If the tasks he assigns are dangerous, so be it. If they cost me my life, so be it. Loyalty before all. Loyalty before life._

It was almost as though Puck knew precisely what she was thinking; for his shoulders slumped, and he sighed a terrible sigh. "Oh, Bones," he whispered. "You still don't understand, do you?"

She understood enough. Wrenching her head away from his hand, she turned her back on the former slave. Her tail held high and proud, she bounded away, back into the forest. She had been watching silently throughout the day, watching the Shadowslayers, as she'd been ordered. And now, as the Shadowslayers slept, she had received new orders. To destroy them. To destroy them and the half-breed fool who protected them.

"Don't take any unnecessary risks," Fenrir had warned. "I won't be able to help you. All you have to do is fight. If you believe you're going to lose, you run." It was obvious that he fully expected for her to lose, for he continued, "You can continue your attacks later. That's what I want: repeated attacks. Weaken them, their defenses. Fall back to recover, and fight again. I need to see how they fight; and I need to see how much they can take. Once I have all the information I need, then you and I will finish them together."

It couldn't have been simpler. Bones ran forwards, deep into the heart of the trees, the wind making her fur fly, her silver-black eyes prickle. The night was briskly cold, but not overly so, and it made her wish to continue running, to fly all the faster, to run far away and continue even farther, run until she could run no more…

But she was tied to Fenrir. And she wouldn't leave him. She had no real _desire_ to leave him. But she had _always_ wanted to run…

Just a remnant of the old days. Of the days before him. Before he'd saved her.

She slowed to a trot, then slowed further, walking a few paces before finally stopping. She had surely lost Puck by now. No need to keep running; she would only have to return by the morning. That was when he'd ordered her to attack: the morning. As the light of dawn touched the treetops, as the Shadowslayers still slept…

"You're fast," A breathless voice admitted; Bones' eyes whipped towards a tree that stood a number of feet to her right. Puck was leaning against it, his arms folded. He was winded, but not sweating; and he recovered his breath in less than half a minute. "But I've beaten faster."

A growl leapt out of her throat before she could stop it, her animal side unleashing itself in one singular sound. She coiled back on her haunches, ready to spring, to throw herself away from the half-breed, to release herself, to run at her true speed… but he casually stepped up in front of her, moving in an odd, willowy way, with a strange speed that somehow put him inches from her before she even had time to react.

"This isn't what you want, Bones. I know you better than that."

Know her? _Know_ her? She'd never seen the half-breed before Fenrir had journeyed to Jotunheim… and now he claimed to _know_ her? The absolute _arrogance_ of some people…!

But then his hand was on her again; this time resting by her ear, almost behind it, holding her face with his hand. His red eyes trapped her suddenly- like he truly, _truly_ could see straight through her, like he didn't mind seeing the darkness, like he didn't mind seeing the blood, like he didn't even care about what she'd done to earn those scars on her foreleg- and, unable to help herself, she whimpered. She sat back on her haunches, foreleg lifting up, as though she could protect her chest with it.

"You have a _choice_ , here," he promised. "The Shadowslayers can _help_ you. You just have to _let_ them."

She whimpered again, standing up again and backing away a few steps, so that her face was out of his hand. The sharp whine slipped through her sharper teeth. _Stop it stop it stop it. Loyalty before life._

"You've never _met_ them before, Bones. I _know_ you don't want to hurt them- no matter _what_ Fenrir is ordering you to do- and I know, I _know_ that they can _help you._ "

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the half-breed's words from her mind. With her eyes closed, she was no longer forced to see _his_ eyes. Somehow, that made things easier. As though his eyes held some hypnotizing hold; and without seeing them, his words were powerless.

 _And why would they need to_ _ **help**_ _me?_ She wondered. _I don't need_ _ **help.**_ _Fenrir is helping me. Fenrir is all the_ _ **help**_ _that I will_ _ **ever**_ _need._

"And what, exactly, has Fenrir done to _help?"_ The half-breed's words were strangely vehement. Bones' eyes flicked open again, grew wide, as she stared at Puck. "Sent you into battle? Forced you to kill? Made you carve those scars into yourself?"

She started to tremble. No. No, she hadn't spoken aloud- she _couldn't_ speak aloud, not in this form- and so that meant… that meant…

Puck swallowed, his own eyes widening as he realized his mistake. Looking away, speaking quietly, he tried to plead, "Bones…"

 _GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_

He flinched. Bones, trembling inside, immediately turned and ran, screaming the words in her mind, over and over again. _Get out get out get out get out! STAY OUT!_

Puck grimaced and pressed his fingers to his aching temples as the shouted voice grew quieter and quieter; as he stopped trying to listen in, as she ran off, as the distance between the two became greater. And then, as it died off into silence, he struck himself in the forehead.

"Aaaannnddd I'm a dumbass." He muttered, then kicked at the ground beneath his feet.

He should've realized sooner. He should've gotten it in his head, after years upon years of living with this. No one trusted telepaths. _No one._ If you could read people's minds and they couldn't read them right back, then none of them would _dare_ to trust you _._ And right now, the thing that he needed most from Bones was _trust._

Not that it mattered. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, turning around to begin the trek back to the campsite. He knew that tomorrow's attack was inevitable. But he also knew what had to become of Bones… and what would only become of her if he did things _right._

But then, he knew what could become of the _universe_ if he did things _wrong._

Rolling his eyes and resigning himself to the fact that everything in his life was severely screwy, Puck walked, in silence, back to the campsite.

* * *

The morning light of dawn had just bleached the sky a brilliant, cold grey. The air was clean and beautiful, and there were very few sounds of animals waking; clearly, there were no birds on this planet. At least, not here. Everything was beautiful and bright and brilliant.

Right up until the point when the big-ass werewolf jumped out of the trees and barreled right into my husband.

Day Two of our journey was off to a _great_ start.

So we'd been fighting for almost a whole minute now, and I was wondering what the hell was going on. Usually I reserved my wondering for after the bad guy was defeated, but today I was oddly clear-headed even as I tried to stab at this strange creature with my force field. It dodged easily enough, but at least I got a good look at it.

It was very clearly a Wyr Wolf (and I only called it a 'werewolf' earlier because, after all, that _was_ where the legends had come from; though most came directly from Fenrir, as most Wyrs didn't live around Earth's side of the universe). Unlike Fenrir, however, this one had fur the color of snow, and silver eyes the same glowing shade as moonlight. She was also much slimmer than Fenrir, though still fairly powerfully built. Somehow, despite the muscles that wrapped around her powerful legs and chest, I could see her ribs through her somewhat-scraggly fur. She had clear signs of an animal that has been living out in an untamed wild for a very long time; which surprised me. Most Wyr Wolves were very civilized. Sometimes, they would go full animal; but most- even the rouges- sought out one form of intelligent civilization or another; whether on their own home planet or otherwise.

Anyway, a crazy Wyr Wolf was attacking us for no good reason, and I could only watch with a strangely detached bemusement as I fought; and as Loki and Puck joined in. Fenrir seemed startled, at first, but he immediately began speaking in his native language- of which I knew only a few words (mainly of the obscene variety, if you catch my drift; the swear words are always the easiest to learn in any language, because those are the ones that most people know). When that failed, he started to morph and change, curling in on himself, a brilliant light flash almost blinding me as the White Wolf launched herself towards me yet again. I didn't dodge, but rather, I ducked beneath her, throwing up my force field, which crashed into her ribs and hopefully winded her as I threw her over my head. She landed on the ground in a way that looked painful, and Puck was immediately beside her, hissing out something in the same language that Fenrir had been using only minutes before.

She swatted him aside with a large paw, sending him crashing to the ground with an _oof!_ Immediate anger surged through me, ridding me of my earlier bemusement. Suddenly, I was no longer detached; I was fighting furiously, sharpening my force field into edges and points, leathal weapons that could easily wound and maim and even kill…

A vivid blue wave of energy crashed into the wolf on the ground as Loki charged towards her, his eyes filled with a cold, calculating death. The wolf, whimpering slightly and bleeding red onto her white fur, managed to get to her paws and back away. I saw, only then, the scars that covered her; from her muzzle to her paws and her foreleg. Looking at them, I was forced to blink, to be certain that they were really there. It was obvious that she was a fighter-that much was very clear- but there was something more to those ones on that front leg… something darker… something sinister…

And I _knew_ that, it was _obvious_ to me, because I had those exact scars on my ankle.

Well, okay, not those _exact_ scars. Hers weren't Shadow Scars, not caused by Fraye or any other kind of living shadow creature. But there was the same kind of purpose in them, the same kind of slow intent. They rose up her leg (or rather, what would have been her arm, in her human form) in a ladder-rung pattern; horizontal lines that were spaced at mostly-even intervals, neat and tidy. I stopped trying to run towards her. Stopped trying to fight her.

Instead, I just watched her.

But the others were fighting. Not Fenrir; he, like me, seemed to be trying to gather information, trying to figure out what was actually going on here. He was only standing a few feet away from the fight, even closer to the other wolf than I was, but he remained immobile.

Puck, on the other hand, was picking himself up from where he'd been knocked aside; and Loki appeared to be in a silent rage, for he was walking with great purpose towards the Wyr Wolf. I saw murder in his eyes; and not the I-am-insane-with-anger kind of murder. The simple, you-need-to-die-now kind of murder. The kill-or-be-killed kind.

The Wyr Wolf growled and snapped at him, lunging forwards, her teeth clacking together less than an inch from his ear as he managed to dodge to the side, his spear stabbing a centimeter away from her white-furred chest and exploding with blue. The Wolf yelped in pain as she was thrown back, and she struggled to get back to her feet, bleeding and bruised, as Loki advanced again. She was just about on her paws when Loki struck again; and this time, she collapsed on the ground. I could see her silver eyes searching around wildly, looking for escape, as Puck- who had just about caught up to the pair when the wolf was thrown away again- ran up to them both. Loki was raising his spear for a final blow when I felt something in me snap.

 _No. This is wrong. Something here is wrong._

As Loki brought the spear down, three things happened at once: the first, I took a step forwards. I don't know what I intended to do; but I'm pretty sure that I was going to stop him. To figure this out. Because something _had_ to be figured out.

The second, Puck shouted, "No, don't!" Which really wasn't that surprising, because as he said the words something else clicked in my head… something he'd said about someone following us… something about a 'she'…

And the third- and really, the most shocking of all three things, and yet the least surprising of all- the transformed Fenrir abruptly barreled into Loki, driving him into the snow, teeth bared and snarling viciously.

Loki was… stunned. He was so rarely taken off guard, but Fenrir… Fenrir was _Fenrir._ He was his _friend._

Only he clearly _wasn't_ his friend any more. Because he reared his head back, then lunged down to snap his teeth around Loki's throat.

I, on the other hand, had been suspicious of Fenrir all along. So it was the easiest thing in the world for me to lash out with my shield, to stab him straight through the shoulder with it, and to almost smile when he yelped in pain and was forced off of Loki.

"Get the _hell away from my husband!"_ I shouted, running towards the melee, as Puck dropped down beside the white wolf. She stood on her second try, taking a snap at the half-breed's head. She missed; but her teeth clamped down on his shoulder instead.

The scream he let out was… bloodcurdling. It wasn't really a scream, even, more of a yell… and his eyes were set in determination as he kicked and struggled in her grip… but hearing him in pain sent shadow fire burning inside of me, and I propelled myself towards the pair as Loki locked into battle with Fenrir once more, betrayal and fury on his face as he did all he could to plunge his spear into the Wyr Wolf's heart.

I clashed with the white wolf, gripping her jaw in my hands and forcing it open by pushing my force field inside of it… she whined sharply as she released Puck, and I sharpened the field into a point, ready to drive it into her throat and end her once and for all…

"Natalie!" The wounded Puck, gripping his blue-bleeding shoulder, rasped out the words. "Please, don't!"

I almost did. Just to spite her. Just because she had hurt him. But in that second, I hesitated, and in that second, Fenrir whirled away from Loki, turned his back on the Jotun, and charged into me instead; and I was sent tumbling to the ground, sent away from the white wolf.

Loki chased after Fenrir as Puck cursed, trying to stand while still bleeding. As I pulled myself back to my feet, I saw the two Wyr wolves ganging up on Loki and cursed as well, shoving Puck down to the ground, ordering him not to get back up again and I charged forward into the fight once more. He'd only get in the way, anyway.

I gripped Fenrir by the tail, getting his attention on me. The White Wolf was still battered and half-beaten already, but she seemed to have caught her second wind, because she threw herself towards Loki with a reckless abandon. He was so angry that he barely seemed to see her; it wasn't the first time that he'd been betrayed. And we'd all seen what had happened the _last_ time he had been (or, at least, the last time when he _thought_ he had been).

Not something I wanted to repeat. Fenrir's claws raked down my force field, making it shine a brilliant blue beneath the strain; but I ignored that and tried to strike at his stomach. He managed to leap off of my force field quickly enough to avoid the blow. He circled me, growling fiercely, and I tried to calculate what, exactly, was happening.

And it really didn't help me out with the calculations when another player came into the fight.

The stranger's hand wrapped around Fenrir's and the White Wolf's tails and yanked hard. I couldn't figure out where she'd come from; she'd seemed to appear out of nowhere; one second invisible, the next, fighting alongside us. My head suddenly ached; who in the name of the nine realms was _this_ supposed to be?

I didn't know. I had no _idea._ But she seemed to be on our side, so what the hell.

The two wolves whirled on the newcomer. I'd seen the pair of them trying to find an exit, searching and scanning for a route out of here- they'd been clearly outmatched, and the white wolf was pretty injured- but now I saw a kind of despair weighted on the shoulders at the introduction of a third enemy; and our newfound ally. Green sparks blazed at the newcomer's tan fingertips as she growled, "Back, fleabags! Back!"

Teal-green fire blazed in one hand, while the other clutched a dagger. The flames did interestingly frightening things to her face, which was already lit up by a slightly insane smile, her white teeth almost seeming fanged. Her short brown hair blew about in the wind, making her look wild, feral. She looked, in almost every way, like a human; tan skin and brown hair and ten fingers on her magically-illuminated hands and ten toes on her bare and dirt-blackened feet. She had a human's facial features, too; and no signs of extra limbs or eyes or gills or anything. Indeed, only two things set her apart: the magic, burning bright on her fingers, and the vivid crimson eyes.

A _Jotun's_ eyes.

She laughed a mad laugh as Fenrir lunged at her, and she sidestepped, throwing herself up in an impressive leap; almost twirling in the air, she landed on the Wyr Wolf's back and jammed her dagger deep between his shoulder blades. He let out a sharp, pained bark, and I winced; I practically _felt_ that one.

The White Wolf growled and, sitting on her haunches, coiling up like a spring, she launched herself at the newcomer with the Jotun eyes. The two collided, and the girl was thrown back onto the ground, off of Fenrir's back, with the white wolf atop her. She struggled beneath its weight, gasping; but she didn't have to struggle for long. As one, Loki and I attacked the White Wyr, throwing her off of our new ally. This time, as she landed on the ground, Loki didn't try to kill her; but he lanced his spear directly through her back leg, pinning it to the ground.

She let out a piercing, shattering howl; and I almost clapped my hands over my ears just to get it out. She whined and whimpered and thrashed about wildly; until, abruptly, her silver eyes rolled back, so that all you could see was black. She went limp, unconscious.

I looked away from her, not feeling nearly as much sympathy as I probably should have. And as my eyes turned from _her,_ they found someone else instead; Fenrir, standing now, weak and wounded, the dagger still lodged in his back. He panted heavily, watching us… and as the new girl got back to her feet- and Puck, wide eyed as he stared at her, walked over to us, finished with following my order not to join the battle- the Wyr Wolf's lip curled over his teeth.

"Fenrir…" Loki said, and for a second, his voice almost- _almost-_ broke. But the emotion was gone from his tone a second later. "Enough," he said; and the word was a command. "This battle has ended."

"Transform to your other form and surrender," I ordered, knowing that these were to be Loki's next words; and taking them upon myself, so that he would not appear to have a weakness for his former friend; for immediately afterwards, I added, "Do so, and we may yet show mercy." I went on, a little kinder, "We can work this out."

Loki hadn't expected me to do this, but he seemed grateful that I had, anyway. The girl-our unexpected ally- snorted, like she didn't believe a word that I said. Puck shot her a look, and Fenrir watched us- all of us- with guarded eyes.

And then, in a movement so swift that, even staring at him as I was, I barely caught it, he looked to the white wolf, then turned tail and ran.

Loki let out a sound of disgust and gripped his spear tighter, lurching forwards to give chase, but I put a hand in front of him, stopping him.

"Don't bother," the stranger said at the same time, spitting on the ground. There was blood on her lip, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "No Jotun could outrun a Wyr Wolf."

For some reason, Puck seemed to find this amusing, for he smirked a little… but that died down after a few seconds. He whirled on the stranger and, with eyes of ice, he demanded in a tight voice, " _What_ are you doing here?" There was only the barest hint of emphasis on the word 'what'; the entire question was terse, but somewhat flat.

"Saving your blue butt, what does it look like?" She asked, sheathing her dagger. I noticed then that she had a staff- collapsed to a quarter of its true size via magic- in the sheath beside it. I also noticed something else; that she couldn't have been older than fourteen or fifteen; or at least the immortal equivalent.

Puck grabbed the girl by the shirt and dragged her aside, barking out a swift, "Excuse us," to me and Loki as he did so. Once the two were a few feet away, he immediately started snapping out harsh words in what sounded like German. I didn't recognize a word of what they said, but I could tell a lot by their tones. Puck was very clearly furious; and the new girl seemed to not care less, occasionally even studying her fingernails as he shouted in her face. She seemed to only answer him whenever she had one smartass remark or another; the tone of which sounded pretty much the same despite the difference in language.

Loki and I looked to each other, exchanging long glances. Neither of us was entirely certain of what to do. The whole thing seemed kinda awkward; like we were somehow trespassing on something incredibly private, even though we couldn't hear a word of what was being said. Occasionally, we looked to the unconscious White Wyr on the ground; but we didn't seem to really know what to do about _her,_ either.

After a moment, Loki bristled, opening his mouth to demand what was going on; but the second he did so, Puck shouted- in very clear English- _"WHADAYA MEAN, '_ _ **KATYDID'S HERE TOO'**_ _?"_

The girl shrugged, then turned to the woods and whistled a curious whistle; two low notes followed by three trilling high ones. Obviously a signal; Loki and I followed her gaze nervously. For a moment, nothing at all happened.

And then there was the rustling of leaves, a movement in the shrubbery. Loki and I tensed as a small figure emerged from the shadows; a little girl. A little _Jotun_ girl, blue skin and all. Her large red eyes watched us all silently, and there was a twig- with a leaf still attached- sticking out of her long black hair.

She shuffled on her feet shyly. Puck's eyes bugged. So did mine; though that was mostly due to the fact that this little girl had a freaking _sword_ in her belt. Granted, it was kid-sized, but it was a _sword._

Puck rubbed his eyes with one hand, then said something else in German that sounded distinctly unfriendly. The human-looking girl with the red Jotun eyes shrugged again and seemed to say something that all at once infuriated and calmed down the half-breed.

Or, should I say, the _other_ half-breed.

I blinked as it hit me; the most obvious of things, staring me in the face. The newcomber's tan skin and red eyes. The fact that she was very tall- so much taller than any other human her age would be, though not freakishly so- and that she could wield magic. It was so clear to me now: she was a _half-breed._ I couldn't speak for the other one, the little girl who was staring nervously at her feet, but it was possible… it was so very possible…

"Puck," Loki said at last, not seeming to have put it together quite yet- which wasn't altogether surprising, I was still putting all the pieces into place myself, and we had both been kinda thrown by the events of this morning- and he stepped forwards, towards our prisoner. "Who, precisely, _is_ this?" His eyes were like steel. He was tired of this, tired of being kept in the dark. Puck and the other half-breed looked to him as one, and Puck swallowed. They exchanged a swift look before she waved a hand in a _go-ahead_ gesture.

"You do the honors," she said, with only the barest edge of sarcasm.

Puck scowled at her momentarily before beckoning the little girl towards him. She walked over, looking at us warily, and he met her halfway, lifting her off the ground. "Well…" he said slowly. "I guess introductions _are_ in order." And here, he sighed heavily, as though even _he_ couldn't believe how things were turning out.

"Reggie, Katydid," he said, looking to the two girls, then to us, "This is Loki and Natalie Laufeyson. Loki, Natalie…" He had to swallow, to steel himself, before he could carry on. "This is Reggie and Katydid."

I knew what he would say. I knew what he would say long before he said it. But somehow, it still managed to shock me when he did:

"They're my sisters."


	14. Half-Breeds and Mutts

"Stop being such a baby," Reggie scolded her older brother, smacking him upside the head.

"Stop being such a little sister," Puck retorted, squirming away from her fingers, which were not-so-delicately wrapping bandages around his wounded arm. He flinched, yanking the injury away from her. "Could you be any _more_ indelicate?"

"Says the giant," she grumbled in turn. I watched the pair in fascination as Katydid, a few feet away, played with her sword. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that kid was running drills. But she was what, two?

"Closer to four, I'd say," Loki murmured, standing close beside me, hearing these questions in my thoughts. "But then, they're half-breeds. Their maturity levels could vary greatly; even from other immortals."

I tried not to let that make my steadily-growing headache any worse.

We'd set up camp again; or rather, we had cleaned up the camp that had been ruined by our previous battle. There was really nothing for it; we weren't going to get anywhere today, not with Bones the way she was. The White Wyr was unconscious again- she had woken a few times, briefly and fitfully- and Puck had bandaged her wounds after Loki pulled the spear from her leg. Loki had been ready to simply finish her off, but Puck had all but begged us not to- and had told us her name, owning up to the fact that he most certainly knew her- and I had stepped in as well. Truth be told, I wanted information; about those scars as much as anything else.

And so now, we were stuck with Puck and his merry gang of misfits and we had no idea how it had happened. I guessed that we couldn't send away Reggie and Katydid- when Loki suggested that, Reggie had given him the creepiest smile and just said 'Try it'- and really, there was no point in trying to get rid of Bones. We wouldn't want her and Fenrir regrouping, anyway.

So in the meantime, Loki and I were being silent and watchful, monitoring the every action of these newcomers in thoughtful quiet.

We'd noticed a number of things within the first few hours of knowing them; but the most central of them all in Loki's mind was the fact that they were all _siblings_ and not _half-_ siblings. He'd been rather surprised by that fact; it seemed that he'd been under the impression that Puck had been the product of… well, a _fling_ , as it were. After all, Puck had been raised on Earth- so obviously, he'd been raised by his _human_ mother- and such things were not all that uncommon. Mortals didn't live long enough for serious relationships with immortals; so most immortals were smarter than that (I tried not to take offense at this assessment, because it _was_ true; I mean, look at all the hoops that we were going through just to make sure that I didn't die on Loki so early).

But they had made it clear to us that they had the same mother, and the same father. He was their brother, and they were his sisters. Simple as that. Loki concluded that it was most likely that their father was a Jotun who left his home world- at least for the time being- in order to be with their mother. So it was possible that he had a hand in raising them; something else that we hadn't expected. Abruptly, I found myself warming up to the guy a little more; anyone who could break away from the norm like that for the woman he loved was all right with me (though I guess I was a _little_ biased).

They were all also very clearly trained in the art of fighting; if that wasn't made obvious by the way that they all carried lethal weapons. It seemed that it was pointless for us to try and train Puck as we had; though we had already known that he was a skilled archer, now that his sisters were around, he was also very casual about his use of magic. All of those training sessions we'd had, and really, it had been for nothing.

The boy was a very talented liar.

His sisters, however, I wasn't so certain about.

But the most obvious thing that we noticed about these new half-breeds was also the most unnerving. The pair of them were precisely like their older brother; in that they seemed to be just as immediately and vitally important to us as Puck had been. I was practically going into conniptions watching that little girl play with that sword; everything in me was screaming to wrench it out of her hands, to stop her, to keep her safe. Wrap her up in bubble wrap, if I had to, just make sure that she was never hurt, never injured, never died. Make sure she was _safe._

The same applied to Reggie, though she was obviously quite competent with a blade. They were warriors, all of them, but I never wanted to see them in battle. Never wanted to see them risk it all, throw their lives on the line; at least, not without a _really_ good reason. Which, clearly, they had.

I guess, being born as half-breeds, they'd seen their share of fights.

"Katy, fix your footwork," Puck warned as he stood, rubbing his hand across the new bandaging of his shoulder. "You look like a drunk penguin."

Katydid looked to him with wide, unblinking eyes. For a moment, I thought she'd act like any kid might- stick her tongue out at him, throw the sword down, or have some other kind of tantrum- but she simply turned back to her invisible enemies once more, adjusted her footwork accordingly, and returned to swinging her sword about. She didn't even say a word.

 _How does a kid that young know what 'drunk' means?_

I'd given up on getting rid of the headache by myself and eventually just popped some painkillers (which of course we'd brought with us, what do you think we are, stupid?). Puck walked over to Bones, and Loki finally decided that it was time to stop observing and act. He stood, clearing his throat.

Immediately, all eyes were on him. Even Katydid turned to face him, planting the tip of her sword into the ground.

"So what, precisely, are you doing here?" He inquired of the two girls.

"Not that we aren't grateful for your help," I added, though I secretly wondered if we couldn't have done it alone. No, I didn't wonder. Some more arrogant part of myself _knew_ that we could have.

"But we have a mission to fulfill," Loki added, meeting eyes with each of them in turn- even, I noticed, the smallest child- before carrying on, "And we are not entirely certain of what you believe your _role_ is in said mission."

"Role?" Reggie asked; and something about her voice was just unnecessarily snide. She hooked her thumb through her belt and said, in a slightly cocky voice, "Simple enough. We're your bodyguards."

"Reg…" Puck grumbled, rolling his eyes, almost-but not quite- embarrassed. He sighed briefly as I looked to the younger half-breed, lifting my eyebrow. What about us, exactly, made us _look_ like we needed bodyguards? I mean, if the Shadowslayers couldn't protect themselves, there really wasn't a lot of hope for the universe.

But Puck took a half-step forwards, partially in front of Reggie. In a voice that was slightly more political than his sister's had been, he amended, "They're here as guides, just as I am. They've seen the Faden before. They know where to find them."

I blinked. Now _that_ was interesting. I'd always been curious about why Puck might need to see the Faden; and now he was saying that his _sisters_ had, too? Even this little one, this small girl who looked so innocent and _seriously-should-not-be-weilding-that-sword-where-were-you-raised-in-a-weapons-locker?_

"They're here to help," Puck added. "And frankly, given the fact that you now have _two_ prisoners-" He held up his wrist, confined by the Key, to illustrate his point- "And no _other_ allies… well, maybe you could _use_ that help."

"And what," Loki said frostily, making me turn to him. He was wearing his best poker face, giving away nothing. "Makes you think that we _need_ allies?"

Puck opened his mouth again. His sister side-stepped him this time, taking a few long steps forward, putting herself directly next to Loki. Her head tilted to the left once, just quickly, as she smirked. "Simple, gramps," She replied.

I bristled. _Gramps?_

She poked a finger at him. "Because that Wyr Wolf who turned on you? He and his little buddy over there didn't trash _you._ He trashed my _brother."_ She looked him up and down, red eyes gleaming. It was an odd mixture of emotions on her face: like she held nothing but arrogant disdain for what he was saying, but somehow she actually really liked him. Even though she didn't _know_ him. "And you? You don't have a scratch on you." She jabbed a finger towards me. "You wanna get your pet human to the Faden. You want her safe. And you're gonna be just fine with letting a few strangers take some hits for her, _aren't_ you?"

Loki studied her with eyes of steel; but her grin never faded or waned. It was an unfortunately accurate assessment of the situation; or, it would have been, if anyone _else_ was talking. Much as I hate to admit it, Loki _would_ have been just fine with a stranger taking damage just so that I could live. His nature hadn't changed so completely that he wouldn't put his own interests before everyone else's _all_ the time.

But these weren't just _any_ strangers. And, for some reason… he wanted to protect these kids, just like I did.

But an accurate assessment is an accurate assessment, and Loki had to admit that she'd definitely pegged him. And, instead of making him nervous of her insight… he found himself agreeing. Facts were facts. Puck was hurt, Loki and I were not. The Wyr Wolves were-mostly- defeated. And, by all appearances, these three wanted to help.

Not that we wouldn't be ready to fight them off, should they betray us.

Loki, however, did not make it immediately clear that he had already decided to allow them to come along (so long as I agreed). Instead, he inclined his head towards Katydid, who was staring directly at him, her hands still clasped tightly around her sword handle, keeping it buried in the dirt. "And do you really believe that a child should be allowed to accompany us on such a- as it has been made clear to us countless times- _dangerous_ journey?"

Puck seemed inclined to agree, for he shot a nervous look back at Katydid. The little girl clearly knew that she was being discussed, for her head tilted and she studied Loki with a fervent intensity, but she said not a word. Reggie, however, rolled her eyes and flipped a small strand of her short hair out of her face.

"Katy can handle herself," She said, with a startling amount of confidence; and Katydid straightened a little under the praise. She nodded once in agreement.

I frowned. "I don't want a child's blood on my hands." I gauged Reggie briefly and admitted, "And while _you_ may or may not be old enough to make your own decisions, the fact stands that your sister _is_ most certainly _a child."_ I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I can't allow-"

And I would've said more, if I hadn't had Katydid's sword pressed against the skin of my throat.

I didn't even see her move. One second, she was standing a few feet away with that blade in the ground, and the next, she was less than a foot away, sword tip pressed into my skin. I cursed, already flaring my shield, but it was too late. Katydid had already traced the thin blade in a shallow nick across the skin of my neck.

It was another blink-and-you'll miss it move that snapped the blade; but this time, it was Loki who had moved. The tip had just pierced skin before I found the ability to react, and I jumped back, out of the way, flaring my shield instinctively without really meaning to (it was programmed into me after all those months in Fraye's chair; feel pain, flare shield. It was only when I failed- or when her shadows put too much pressure on said shield- that I felt pain again). Loki's hand wrapped around the blade; it was sharp enough to cut into even his Jotun skin, but it was still thin, and a piece broke off in his grip.

"Sophisticated magic, illusions," Loki told Katydid, flinging the broken end of her blade to the ground. It clattered against a rock before falling into the dirt and sending up a small puff of dust. His face was stony and stern; his words a lecture, not praise, as he loomed above her. "Not something that should be practiced by one so young," he added.

She held his eyes with a defiance I hadn't seen since… actually, I'd never seen a defiance like that. Not on a face so young, at the very least. Loki held her gaze unyieldingly, no mercy and no forgiveness in his eyes. I knew why; and his next statement confirmed it for me.

"And what use would it be to you in combat?" He asked the little girl, towering above her. "It's already weakened you far more than either of us could have in that amount of time."

She seemed entirely unafraid, but I could see the sweat forming at her hairline, could see her face getting paler. Her face was emotionless, but it was clear that he was right; that little trick had cost her dearly. Illusions weren't the most powerful type of magic; but clearly, she was not the most powerful type of mage. Even Loki had struggled with them at her age (or at least _around_ her age, as we still had no idea what it actually _was)._

He took a step forward. She tried to reposition herself- not take a step back, but plant her feet more firmly- but it was no use. Her knees gave out, and she fell onto the ground. Loki straightened a little, clasping his hands behind his back, satisfied that he had been proven correct.

Just after he had turned away, however, Katydid said the first words that I had ever heard from her. Her voice matched her eyes as opposed to her age; soft as a breeze, sharp as the now-broken sword she carried.

"Why would I need to carry on the combat?" She asked the words of Loki, but her red eyes were on me. She didn't smile, didn't act arrogant; her words were deadly serious. "If the illusion does its job, then the fight is already over."

Loki- his back to her, and his face to me- gave me a look. I gave him one back. Clearly not an ordinary family, then. He closed his eyes as if to try and forget that this had been his view on illusionary magic for a few hundred years now before rearranging his features into a stern refusal.

"I'm sorry," he told them. "But we cannot-"

"They come with us."

Loki looked to me. These words that came out of my mouth surprised me as much as they did him, but somehow I knew that I wouldn't take them back. I couldn't help it. The kid had done what she'd set out to do. She'd proven herself to us, even if it had weakened her. She was bound and determined.

And quite frankly, _she_ had caught _me_ off guard. _Me._ You had to be made of some seriously stern stuff to do that at all, let alone when you were two years old-

 _Four,_ Loki corrected me again. Whatever.

The Trickster looked me over once. I looked back at him. This was my decision, and I was sticking to it. After a moment, he nodded. "Very well," he said, turning back to the others- he was really only going to refuse them for my benefit, anyway, as it was really their lives to throw away if they so chose- and meeting each of their eyes in turn. "If you wish to come, so be it." He turned away again, saying over his shoulder, "But I expect you all to keep up. We will not slow our pace for you."

This was a lie, but it was a necessary one. We didn't want these kids under any delusions. But as Puck knelt down beside Katydid to make certain she was all right- and as she brushed him off- Reggie stepped forwards.

"Ha!" She barked. "Please. Hope you're hungry, runt, 'cause you'll be eating my dust before long."

I bristled a little at the derogatory 'runt' comment, but Loki didn't seem to mind. Actually, he was _surprisingly_ unoffended, for him. Looking to her and tilting his head swiftly, he noted, "That's somewhat ironic, considering _your_ stature, half-breed."

"Hey, at least I've got an _excuse_ for being short. You, on the other hand, seem to have been born as a Frost Shrimp rather than a Frost Giant." She _tsk_ ed and shook her head sadly. "It's okay, buddy," she added, patting his arm. "We're here for you."

The two traded insults in a way that would have rivaled even Tony and I on our best days as they walked away. Puck tended to Katydid, helping her to get to her feet and move somewhere that she could sit more comfortably. He retrieved the pieces of her sword and worked to repair them via magic, but it was clear that it would need repair from an actual blacksmith at some point in the near future. Seeing them parting off into groups like this, I took a few steps back and sat on the ground beside the White Wyr Wolf.

She remained with her eyes closed, her muzzle close to the dirt, lifting little clouds of dust with every breath. After a moment, I moved in front of her, sitting on my knees so that I could pretend to examine her injury.

"I know you're awake," I said in a quiet voice. "It's no use. We won't give you an opportunity to escape."

It took a moment, but resignation seemed to settle in. She puffed out a final breath that was longer than the others, a wolf's sigh, and let her silver-black eyes open. They trained on me almost immediately, without her lifting her head from the ground.

"My name is Natalie," I said, leaning back on my hand. "And you're Bones." It wasn't a question. She seemed to not care that I wanted an answer, anyway, because she looked away from me.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, looking up at the sky. The others still seemed clueless- though for a second I swore that I saw Puck's eyes on us- and I added, "I just want answers."

Another sigh.

"Why did you attack us?" I asked her. "We've never done anything to you. We've never hurt you. You _or_ Fenrir." I regarded her coldly for a minute, wondering what I'd do to get the answers, wondering if she'd ever shift to human form so that she could give them to me. "So why?"

She didn't even bother to be interested in my interrogation. I was the one who sighed this time, sitting upright again, back on my knees. I looked at her foreleg for a moment, then reached out and ran my fingers across the ladder-rung scars there. I could feel the fur of her leg, broken by the damage, the ruined skin.

She yanked her paw closer to her chest, pulling it out of my touch, without the slightest change of emotion on her face.

"I have them too, you know," I murmured. Her silver irises clicked on me, gleaming within the pool of black. I shifted my weight, so that I was only sitting on one knee, and lifted the other leg so that I could bring my ankle into view. I pulled up the cuff of my pant leg and there they were; the same lines, drawn into the skin, drawn with intent.

Bones looked at them for a full minute. A full minute in which I didn't move or say anything, in which I asked no questions and she gave no answers. And, just when I thought that maybe, _maybe,_ she might shift forms, might respond…

She turned her eyes away, snorted, and closed her eyes again.

Well. That discussion was officially ended.

I sighed, stood, and moved away from our prisoner. There were other things to be done.

* * *

It was late, and the entire camp was sleeping.

Well, actually, half of the camp was sleeping. The other three members of the group- the three half breeds- were all wide awake, sitting huddled together, staring at the stars. They hadn't spoken in quite a while.

Reggie gnawed on her lip as she watched her older brother. He turned a piece of metal around and around in his hand, looking pensive. She cleared her throat pointedly.

"I know you're not entirely happy to see me," she announced, looking away from him, and up to the stars he studied. "But you can't say you didn't _miss_ me. I won't believe you."

He turned to her. Given the fact that he was as tall as your average Frost Giant, and she was only slightly taller than the average human, she seemed fairly dwarfed by him; but he seemed only too used to that, for he pulled her into a sideways hug, leaning down just enough for the both of them to be comfortable in it. "Yeah," he grumbled. "I missed you, Reg."

She smirked. "You know you weren't gone that long… not to us, I mean."

"Figured as much," he said; but he shot a warning look towards the other sleeping members of the traveling party. Reggie cottoned on quickly; it was best not to say anything out loud that could be incriminating. She nodded- she'd already taken that into consideration, thank you- and carried on, "Katy's been getting headaches, though."

He winced, looking towards the little girl. Katydid wasn't really paying much attention, hovering between the waking world and dreamland, her eyelids drooping as she struggled to keep them open. He nodded grimly. "We should probably… you know." Shooting another, more fearful look towards the sleepers, he made a gesture between himself and Reggie, first tapping his forehead, then hers.

"Yeah," She agreed. "We probably should. Easier that way."

Puck pretended not to notice the gruffness in her voice; the way that she spoke just a little _too_ hastily. Clearly, it wasn't only for Katydid's benefit that she suggested this. He turned away to hide his small smile, looking instead to his littlest sister, shaking her awake. Katy stirred, turning a bleary gaze up to him.

He took her hand; she wrapped her small fingers around it tightly, and he took Reggie's. The trio's eyes closed, and for a long minute, there was silence.

And then the three sighed in relief.

"Ugh, that is _so_ much better." Reggie groaned, rubbing her temples with her two index fingers, as though she was trying to drill them into her skull. "Realms spare us if you ever die, Puck, because we would be so super-screwed it's not even funny."

"It gets better," he said gently. "Over time."

"One would hope."

Katydid wrapped her arms around her big brother, holding him tight. Puck smiled lightly, kissing her on the top of the head. "Yeah, I missed you, too, small fry."

The three were quiet again. And then Puck asked, "How's home?"

Reggie smirked; but it was a surprisingly pained gesture. She turned away so that her brother wouldn't see the sparks of anger on her face. "You mean, how's Ariel?" As Puck blushed a deeper blue, she waved a flippant hand. "She's fine. Barely even misses you yet." As Puck looked away, swallowing hard, she added, "Like I said. It hasn't been so long."

"I know."

"She doesn't even know that you like her."

"I know."

"You shouldn't put so much expectation on-"

"Reg, shut up."

"Up-shutting."

"Good."

Quiet again. Katydid looked between the two, studying them silently. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. Puck looked to her and smiled sadly. "Don't worry, Kat, we're not fighting."

"Not really," Reggie agreed.

"Not like we used to."

Katy looked to Reggie. Reggie looked back. "Not like you wish you still could," Katy added for her, then stood. Silently, she breezed off, into the woods, unsheathing her sword and brandishing it ahead of her; just in case.

Reggie avoided Puck's gaze as he turned to look at her. For a moment, he didn't say anything.

And then, "I wish I knew why you hated me sometimes, Reg."

"I don't hate you."

"You don't like me."

"You're my brother. I don't _have_ to."

And then, because this was true, Puck fell silent.

And they watched the stars.

* * *

"Do we really have to move on so quickly?" Puck asked, not for the first time, intermittently glaring at Loki and I through his worried looks back at Bones. The White Wyr was limping along steadily; her leg had healed, for the most part, in a disturbingly fast fashion. Clearly, Fenrir would not be down for too long, either.

"We shouldn't stay in one place for too long," Loki said firmly. "We carry on."

He was right, and I knew it; which was why I had agreed to carry on. But I, too, was worried about Bones. Despite the fact that she was our prisoner- and an extremely uncooperative one at that, particularly seeing as she hadn't shifted out of wolf form since she'd lost the battle against us- she was still a living being. And I didn't want that to change just because we'd been a little impatient.

Still, she seemed to be faring well enough. She was even glaring at Puck now, every time he made his protests known.

Because really, we'd made this decision almost half a day ago. We were moving on, and there was nothing more we could do about it.

Loki's hand linked with mine as we walked. We talked together in our minds, not trusting the others with our words, not daring to speak out loud. The others didn't seem to mind this, didn't seem to care about the quiet. In fact, they practically seemed to prefer it; though Reggie was almost constantly humming to herself, none of the others talked amongst themselves, either.

We'd avoided the forest, at the girl's behest, and we were now traveling alongside it, moving in silence through the fields of flowers. And I do mean _fields_ of them, everywhere, of a thousand different colors and kinds and shapes. It was almost hard to stare at the ground for too long; like you'd go blind if you watched that much brilliance.

 _It's interesting,_ Loki noted to me. _But this journey was meant to be dangerous, correct?_

 _Aye,_ I answered.

 _And yet, the only danger we have faced so far is the one that we brought with us._

I noticed the twinge of pain as he said this- his fury over Fenrir's betrayal was beginning to die into sadness after all these days- and I squeezed his hand. I couldn't promise him that no one would ever betray him, but at the very least, I could make sure he knew that _I_ wouldn't. _True,_ I replied. _But then, they_ _ **are**_ _watching us, aren't they? If, perhaps, these 'dangers' are orchestrated by the Faden themselves, then maybe they already know that we have put_ _ **ourselves**_ _in danger. Perhaps they don't_ _ **need**_ _to add anymore. Not yet, anyway._

 _Perhaps,_ Loki agreed. _Or perhaps there is much more to come that we simply cannot see yet._

 _You wanted to do this._

 _As did you._

And then we didn't talk again for a very long time.

I watched Bones as she limped along. Beyond just refusing to shift out of her human form, she had also refused to eat or drink anything, no matter who tried to place food or water in front of her. She slept, but I doubted there was much she could do to stop that, as she needed her sleep to heal; but the way she was starving herself was already making her much weaker. I knew (because Loki knew) that Wyr Wolves could go quite some time without food, but still… this wasn't great.

I looked away from her, looked forward to the fields ahead of me. In any case, there was nothing I could do about it, and worrying certainly wouldn't help-

I missed a step as I jolted to a halt. Frozen in place for a moment, I could do nothing but stare ahead. My chest got tight. A few of my old wounds prickled; but the scars on my arm outright ached.

I turned away swiftly, staring at the flowers on the ground. Focusing on something beautiful.

Loki confirmed what I already knew, scanning the area where I had seen it with his own eyes. He saw nothing; nothing out of the ordinary. Keeping my hand in his but not daring to make any more contact, he told me, _She's not real, Frost._

 _I know,_ I replied, feeling a wheeze beginning in my lungs. I closed my eyes to block out the images of shadows swarming inside of them. _I know._

But the thing was… I _didn't_ know. Because Fraye had been standing there. Staring at me.

"Oh, Natalie," she cooed into my ear; I jumped back as she appeared, directly beside me, smiling. "You should have let me die when you had the chance."

I was about ready to make a run for it- Loki could cover me with the others, claim that I was scouting ahead or something- when a small hand found mine.

A scream clogged in my throat- small hands and small fingers had crafted the shadows into weapons, that molded and shaped and formed them into an all-consuming darkness- but the hand was… cold.

Fraye's hands weren't cold. Not like that. I hadn't known what 'cold' was in those four months.

I looked down to the little hand in mine. Katydid's hand. The little half-Jotun was tugging on my fingers, looking up at me with large eyes. She suddenly seemed much younger than she had before, much more like a kid.

She lifted her other hand up to me; and inside it was something small, delicate. I lifted it gently out of her fingers, trying to hide the fact that my own were trembling, and let it fall into my palm.

It was a flower; just like one of the thousands that we were crushing beneath our feet, the ones that were bleeding their colors into the soil, leaking their beauty out to the world even in death. Small and white with a little dot of yellow in its center, it looked very common; almost like you could've seen them on Earth, too.

She mumbled something so quietly that I couldn't hear it over the sound of Fraye's soft snickers. "Come now, Natalie, you should know the truth about us children by now. You should know what we're capable of… when we _grow._ "

I didn't ignore her- I couldn't- but I didn't look away from Katydid, either. Loki was tensed beside me, his hands on my shoulders, ready to stop me if something went wrong, ready to help me, ready to do whatever was necessary. Katy shuffled on her feet, kicked her foot back and dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt (she, unlike her older sister, actually wore shoes).

"Sorry," she said.

My eyebrows furrowed. Fraye snorted, making me shiver again and, just to spite her, I asked the little girl, "For what?"

She pointed at my neck, where her sword had nicked it. "I didn't wanna hurt you," she said in a gentle voice. It matched her age now, matched her small frame. "I had to." She turned away. "I hafta hurt people sometimes."

Strange, how I knew exactly what she meant, exactly what that felt like. How she seemed old and young at the same time. How she'd grown up and yet, somehow, retained a childhood innocence- indeed, a childhood in and of itself- that I had lost.

And then she was walking on, turning her eyes forward like nothing had ever happened. I watched the small half-Jotun and felt something inside me tremble. Fraye's eyes were still on my back, still in my mind, they were still staring inside of me, they were making my insides itch. I swallowed it back, pushed it all aside, and closed my eyes. I heard the others walking onwards, moving ahead of us, and I wished that I could move with them, but I couldn't, and yet…

 _Say you forgive her,_ said another voice. _Say it's all right._

 _She's just a little girl, after all._

And I didn't know who that voice belonged to, or who it was talking about: _Katydid or Fraye?_

But I steeled myself and I walked forwards and, wishing I could say this to Fraye-because maybe then she'd die, maybe then I'd be left in peace- I said to the little girl, "It's all right. I have to hurt people sometimes, too."

She nodded like she got it and carried on walking.

Loki stayed at my side and Fraye laughed once before fading away again. I nodded at my husband _\- see, I'm fine, no need to worry, I'm okay-_ and he took my hand, interlocking our fingers, watching me intently.

But I walked on. I was shaking and I was sick and my scars hurt, but I walked on.

What else could I do?

It took me a long while to recover again- not the longest it's ever taken, not the shortest- but I _did_ recover again. I remained in silence, speaking neither out loud, nor in my head, and I moved with determination. It was only when I felt a blister pop on my ankle that I found myself snapping back, once and for all, into the present.

I stopped for a moment to patch it up while everyone else settled down for lunch. Katydid, though she'd been quite the trooper, seemed completely exhausted, and she flopped onto the ground while her siblings chuckled and agreed to take turns carrying her for a bit. She seemed small and light enough to do so.

"You were right about privacy," I mumbled to Loki as we sat, a few feet away, in the flowers. They were among the first words I'd said aloud to him that day, further proving my point. "Because we're getting _none_ of it."

Loki half-smirked and I sighed, pulling out some of the food we'd brought with us. (We'd figured that we might have to scavenge and hunt for food when we got here, but so far there had been very few opportunities; while we'd had the time, we hadn't really found anything other than a few fruits that Puck had sworn were completely harmless despite neither Loki nor I ever seeing them before.)

This privacy thing wasn't good. Puck and Fenrir both already knew about my little 'episodes', so I hadn't been all too worried about me having them while they were around; even if I didn't particularly like showing weakness around either of them. Now we had a prisoner who could not be _allowed_ to see any such weakness, and two strangers who were much the same.

I'd needed to be _away_ from that. _Away_ from the people who put so much _expectations_ on me. _Away_ from the memories.

Though, admittedly, there were very few reminders here. And sure, I missed the Avengers- Natasha and Bruce, especially, my best friend and the one person who could be calm in any situation, but the others as well- but I didn't have them… _there_ all the time. I didn't have them worrying about me. I didn't have them _reminding_ me _why_ they were worried. Reminding me of what I'd been through. I wasn't around my old home on Earth- that had been taken from me the day I delivered that pizza- or around my parents- around which I'd never been the same- or the Tower- that became another home that was ripped out of me- or even Asgard- that had a prison where Loki had been locked up, that had held him in darkness for so long- or any of it. And that was good.

But now I was around a lot of _other_ people, too. Others who would wonder- like my human friends would have- what, exactly, was _wrong_ with me, if I ever… lost it again.

I shook the thoughts out of my head; they did me no good. Instead, I looked forward in silence and ate without thinking, moving on autopilot, not entirely sure of what I was actually eating until I realized that I thought it tasted kinda funny.

I peered down at the alien fruit in my hands and, no longer having much of an appetite, I sighed, turning it about in my hands. But I couldn't look at food for long without needing to eat it, so, despite the fact that I was already full, I choked it down. It wasn't the best of eating habits, but what can you do? I was used to this by now.

Besides, I usually threw it up later, anyway.

I was so freaking sick of Fraye's influence in my life.

Katydid asked her brother for 'ups', which he obliged to, lifting her off the ground and holding her in his arms so that she could look around from the advantage of his height instead of her own. She seemed easily light enough to do so, but it kinda surprised me: she was old enough to come within inches of slashing my throat out with a sword, but she still asked her brother to pick her up? And why did it seem so natural, so… okay? Why was this child- this blend of contradictions- so _right?_ It was like she could kill you or ask you for her stuffed toy in the exact same tone of voice, and it didn't even matter, because that was _natural_ for her.

Fraye was the same way, in some respects. But, even knowing that there was a connection-that they were both scary little girls who could kill you in your sleep, that they shared the same dark hair and the same wide eyes that made my heart melt when I first met them- I couldn't see it. I couldn't be scared of this kid, even knowing that I should be, even knowing that it would be _okay_ for me to be. I _couldn't_ be.

What was _wrong_ with that picture? I mean, I couldn't even hug Amy- my adorable little cousin- without briefly wondering if she was gonna send shadows through my heart. And yet, this kid- this total stranger- I trusted completely. Trusted with my life.

Well, whatever, the rest of my life was screwed up anyway; maybe it was screwed up just enough to explain this away, too.

"A little old for that, isn't she?" Loki asked wryly, noting my train of thought and putting it on a slightly more innocent track, inclining his head towards Katydid. Her brother was still holding her above the ground, and she was sucking her thumb. Well, actually, she wasn't so much sucking her thumb as she was _chewing_ it; like she was trying to bite her fingernails but couldn't quite distinguish the difference between that and her skin. It was kinda cute, in that stupid-little-kid way.

I shrugged. "Immortals age differently, right? And we don't even _know_ about half-breeds."

He nodded. "True enough."

And it _was_ true. I had thought that Katy was maybe two, and Loki had thought of her as perhaps four; well, perhaps we were _both_ right. Of course she could seem to act many different ages at once; her _true_ age couldn't be determined by the number of _years_ she'd lived. Not really.

I packed away what I hadn't eaten and stood again. Bones was staring off into space, her eyes glazed over, and I looked her over briefly as I made my way to the half-breeds. She wasn't looking so great; her fur had lost some of its shine, and she looked as though she didn't want to move at all; just lie there until the inevitable happened, and she wasted away into nothing. A few days without food or water could give that look to a person.

I wished it wouldn't, though. She was our prisoner; and how you treated your prisoners showed a lot about who you were. I'd been around far too many people who treated them badly (and Loki and I were usually the ones on the receiving end). I didn't want her to hurt herself; particularly since _I_ wasn't going to do it. It was completely unnecessary.

But she was determined, so what else could I do?

"Pack your stuff," I told the half-breed trio. "We're moving out in ten minutes."

Loki had already shouldered his own traveling pack and was moving on to scout ahead. Reggie nodded, pulling out her staff- she didn't seem to have eaten anything- and stood, taking Katydid out of Puck's hands. He put together his own things- and Katydid's- before throwing his pack over his own shoulders and helping Katy thread her small arms through the straps of her own. The little girl pet the Wyr Wolf as she stood beside her, seeming to think nothing of it until Bones' hackles rose, and she growled, snapping at her tiny fingers… but purposely missing.

Neither Puck, Reggie, nor Katy became overly freaked out at this, and I couldn't escape the idea that they were all already part of a pack; that Bones was the adult wolf who warned off the pup when it got too rowdy. I, on the other hand, got a nervous spasm in my gut at the sight of those sharp teeth next to such a small girl. This wanting-to-protect-these-kids-with-my-life thing was getting to be a real nuisance.

The hybrids guarded the Wyr Wolf while I headed forwards to scout with Loki. Neither of us was worried about them running off on us, though perhaps we should have been. But Puck was bound to me by the Key on our wrists, and he was guarding Bones… who, quite frankly, was no longer in any kind of shape to be running _anywhere._

Wrapping my pinkie finger around his- which made him roll his eyes, (how sappy and juvenile can you get?) even though he didn't seem to entirely want me to stop- I glanced towards him. His watchful stare was turned towards the forest that we still had not _entirely_ cleared, but that we were going around, and that had thinned considerably on our trek. His eyes narrowed on the trees, and he turned away, mumbling something under his breath. His fingers twitched, and I saw him trying to send out tracer magic; but I could tell by the defeat inside of him that he clearly did not expect for it to work.

"Fenrir?" I asked, scanning the trees. I couldn't make out his tan-brown fur in the foliage; clearly, it was better camouflage than you'd expect.

"Hmm," he agreed, not opening his mouth. His eyebrows pulled together, and I could feel a coldness stirring inside of him, solidifying around his heart. I tried to think of a way to warm it, but I knew it was no use; there was nothing I could do to keep the world from hurting him, no matter how I tried. If my experience with Fraye had taught me anything, it was that no matter how powerful you are, there's always something in the world that's more powerful; and you will never be able to anticipate everything. Failure is inevitable, no matter your species. All you can do is manage the fallout.

Still- and I felt horrible for thinking this- it hadn't been _my_ failure. I'd known that something was wrong with Fenrir. I'd _known_ that he was bad news. But Loki had refused to listen, and now we were in _this_ mess.

"Why?" Loki's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to him, but his green eyes were focused entirely on the ground. "Why would he want to kill us, Frost? It doesn't make sense! He is my _friend,_ I've never _hurt_ him… And Fenrir was never one to do _anything_ without a _reason…_ "

I pulled my lower lip in between my teeth and concentrated very hard on not thinking certain thoughts, biting down until it hurt. I had a theory. I had a few theories, actually; I didn't spend my time just sitting around and twiddling my thumbs. I'd been thinking long and hard about these very things- and I knew that Loki had as well- and I'd come up with a number of different things; some more plausible than others.

And at the bottom of the 'plausible' list, the least likely- and most hopeful- situation of the bunch, was the one that I really did not want Loki to know about.

I gave up on trying to not think the thoughts and threw walls around them instead. If Loki noticed, he didn't say anything, and it left me free to speculate.

It was one of those things that you don't notice, that you don't _think about,_ at first. But the second you realize it, the second you _see_ the connection, the pattern, it becomes the singular most obvious thing in the world: Fenrir had been in wolf form when he had attacked us. As had Bones; who was _still_ in wolf form, who had refused to shift out of it, and who had looked like a wild, feral animal as she had charged us.

So simulation one was simple; there was something here, on this planet- be it the food or the water or the very air we breathed- that was hazardous to Wyrs. It made them go ballistic. Psycho. Turn-on-your-best-friend-and-try-to-eat-him-for-dinner-looney. It was the easy, blameless option. The one that Loki wouldn't be able to help but hope for. And I couldn't let him hope for it, because it was so unlikely (after all, now that Bones was a prisoner, she seemed entirely lucid, even if she was totally uncooperative). But it was hope. It was slim and it was stupid but it was hope. And if Loki held out hope for his friend, he could easily get killed.

And if those hopes were dashed, if he found out yet again that his old friend really _was_ trying to kill him… that Fenrir really _wanted_ him dead… then what would happen to him? I wasn't the only one suffering from PTSD, here; Loki's emotions needed a little babying, too. And I was precisely the person to do that.

There were a number of other, more reasonable options, however. Fenrir could want us dead for a slight that we hadn't known we committed, or could have been protecting Bones from us- perhaps she meant more to him than us, and if she wanted us dead, then we _needed_ to be dead (I mean, who knew _how_ the whole 'pack mentality' thing could work among Wyr Wolves?)- or… or…

Or something else. Something bigger. Something we couldn't quite see yet.

Still, even with these plausible scenarios, I didn't want to risk having Loki continuing this conversation; so I changed it, quickly, as subtly as I could. "I'm not sure," I said, sounding thoughtful. " _My_ question is, why is he still here? What does he plan to do _next?_ "

I watched the trees; and as they got progressively thinner, I thought I saw a brown flash between a few, scattering leaves. Loki's finger, which was still wrapped around mine, squeezed tighter as his whole hand tried to clench into a fist. "I believe that he is trying to figure that out himself," he muttered. "He is likely watching us to see if he can attack again without serious damage to himself." He sighed and ran his pale hand through his long black hair. "Say what you will of him, but he is nothing if not cautious. He will not try to harm us if he does not think that he will not gain the upper hand in some way."

I could see that this was hurting him, trying to think of his friend as an enemy, trying to turn all of the weaknesses that he knew against him. I wished I knew some of those weaknesses- some of the more psychological ones, particularly- but I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to use Loki to pick at Fenrir's scabs.

So I carried on. "What happens if he can't?"

"Then he will retreat. Regroup, perhaps, find other allies. And he will try again."

I frowned. I didn't like the idea of him finding other allies. Granted, we had taken him and Bones out easily enough, but we barely trusted our _own_ allies at this point. It was already us against the universe; did the universe _really_ need to add other players into the game?

"And how long will that wound on his back slow him down?"

I didn't realize how I'd said that- with a blunt, militaristic harshness- until Loki winced. It was so difficult for me to see Fenrir as anything but our enemy; but he was Loki's _friend._ I mean, how would I have felt, if April was suddenly coming at me with a knife?

 _Relieved,_ a sick, broken part of my mind admitted. _Because then she'd be alive._

Okay, so April was a bad example. Natasha, then.

No, that was a bad example, too; because if the Widow came at me, she would have damn good _reason_ to. So would any of my other friends, for that matter.

The thought seized my chest and squeezed my ribcage. Oh. Of course. I would think that all of my friends would have a good reason for trying to kill me.

So why wouldn't Loki?

I let go of Loki's pinkie finger and gripped his entire hand instead. "Whatever his reasoning is," I said firmly, making him blink and look to me, "It's not good enough." I turned my gaze to him and tried to burn my words into his brain. "The world is better off if _you're_ in it."

He blinked again. His lip turned up at the corner, but he didn't say anything. He just lifted my hand up, turning it over, palm up, and bent down just a little.

Bringing my wrist to his lips, he kissed me gently, his lips just brushing against the 'L' that was formed by my scars. "Is it?" He murmured there. "Is it really?"

And then, before I could get a chance to answer, he released my hand and stalked forwards, moving swiftly ahead of me, leaving me behind.

I scowled- now _really-_ and prepared to chase him down; but before I could, a voice sounded off from a short distance to the side of me- the opposite direction from the forest- and, snorting, said, "Don't bother."

I turned. Reggie was there, partially behind me but catching up swiftly. "He's too stubborn. He'd pick a fight with a Rhino if he thought he could prove a point to it." She shook her head, her short brown hair flipping around her cheeks. "I'll talk to him."

I bristled just a little bit. "I'm perfectly capable of-"

She shrugged before I could go on, cutting me off. "Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. But what's the harm in giving me a shot?"

"And what makes you think that you'll do any better?"

A grin cracked on her face, a tilted and crooked gesture. It made her suddenly seem a thousand times more likable, like everything she'd said and done before now was from some high pedestal, and now suddenly, she was down on the same level and playing field as the rest of us. "Absolutely nothing." She leaned some of her weight onto her staff. "But at least he won't be expecting _me_ to chase after him."

Well, true enough. And she was right; what did I have to lose? I'd been trying to tell Loki the same thing over and over again without getting it into his thick skull. Maybe it was someone else's turn.

Giving her a go-ahead gesture, I said, "Knock yourself out."

"I'm prone to doing so," she said with a mock-cheerfulness, picking up the pace so that she was next to Loki within a few steps. I closed my eyes for a moment, debating on whether or not to listen in. I was still trying to decide when Reggie walked up to Loki and nudged his arm.

The little flutter in his chest- some strange kind of happiness- made my decision for me. I didn't want to ruin anything for him. I backed out of his head and concentrated on my own thoughts, leaving his alone.

And a wolf stalked us as the day went by.

* * *

"C'mon, Bones," Puck muttered, stroking the Wyr Wolf gently. She would rather cut off her own claws than admit it, but the half-breed's touch was far more soothing than she'd expected. Like everything that had ever hurt her was just… disappearing. "You've got to eat something."

No. She didn't. She really didn't. The rest of the camp was settled down to start sleeping, and Bones would do the same. She would sleep without food. She would starve herself to death and she would not shift out of her wolf form, and she would not give them what they wanted, because they wanted Fenrir. And she would not would not would not give him to them. Her head ached and her mouth was dry but she would die first, Loyalty Before Life, because life was nothing, she owed her life to someone else and loyalty was all she had left…

"Shh…" he winced as he sensed her turbulent thoughts- the telepath was in her head again _(Get out get out GET OUT)_ and he was hearing her thoughts and he was listening in _well listen away listen away because I'll get you out in the end, I'll cut you out you twisted freak of nature, hybrid scum_ \- and he reached out to stroke the fur on her head. She bit back a whimper of relief. He was touching her. His hand was on her head and he wasn't disgusted or revolted, he wasn't striking her, he wasn't trying to hurt her, but that just made things all the worse- _because the only things that can stand touching me are the things more disgusting than myself, these hybrid freaks with human blood mixed with Jotun blood and making them diseased, that's what the universe calls them diseased and who am I, what am I to judge?-_ and he was being kind to her. She hated it. Because the others were all ignoring her _(though not the littlest hybrid brat because she was too little she didn't know better, but she seemed to know the most of them all, how does she know me how do her eyes know me how)_ and she could deal with that, she could stand being ignored. If she was ignored, then it would be so very easy to slip away into nothingness, fade in their memory and fade from their sight as she just disappeared, grew thinner and thinner and then vanished for good…

She was so hungry.

No, she wouldn't eat. Even though Puck was putting food in front of her she would not eat, she would not dare, because Fenrir was out there, and Fenrir could not be betrayed. She would not hurt him in any way, she would not betray information to his enemies. She would die first, because life was nothing, her life was not hers to live, not anymore. It was his. It had been his for so long now that she'd almost forgotten what it was like to live for someone that was _not_ him _(no, not those days. I'll never forget those days)._

Her head was spinning and her mind was spinning and she couldn't keep her thoughts straight because every time she did she got distracted because _that was food in his hands and there was pain in her stomach and it all hurt everything hurt I haven't shifted in days I can't spend much more time like this I'll die I'll die I'll die…_

No. No, that didn't matter.

She repeated her mantra in her head: Loyalty before life, loyalty before life, loyalty before life…

Loyalty before food.

Damn that half-breed.

He sat only a few feet away, trying to get her to eat something, trying to get her to shift into another form. Her bipedal form, because she couldn't hold this one for much longer, not without perishing- _well that's fine, then I'll die before the starvation hits-_ but she was okay. She was really okay. She was totally fine. Because this is what she wanted.

He'd pulled a knife on her that day. She had told Fenrir that she was his and he had pulled a knife on her, he had tried to get her to run, to go-go-go away and she hadn't. She wouldn't. He had pulled a knife on her and he had brought it to her stomach and he had drawn blood-but not too much blood- and she hadn't even flinched. Because her life was his and if he wanted to take it, that was fine, there was nothing she could do to stop him. So now she would die a slower death but she would be dying for him, and that was okay, she was okay, and everything was fine, fine, fine…

 _That smell that smell that food, dammit, half-blood, I don't want your food, I don't want it, get it away from me, get it away, get out of my head, get out of my thoughts, you don't want to know what's in my thoughts you don't want to see this no one wants to see this GET OUT._

And she saw the half-breed boy swallow his pride, saw him choke it down, and she wondered what pride tasted like and she almost laughed because she was so hungry but the hunger wasn't the worst part, it was the spinning, it was the way her thoughts felt, it was the pain the pain the pain because she hadn't shifted yet and she wanted to shift, she wanted to phase back into her bipedal form because this one was killing her, it was trapping her in a cage of its bones and blood and muscle and sinew and she wanted out _let me out let me out let me out._

And as the half-breed boy swallowed his pride and her stomach grumbled, she listened to his words, to words he didn't want to say, because he didn't want to feed into this, feed into what was in her head, but he did it anyway, because he had to, "Bones… you're no use to Fenrir if you're dead, are you?"

Oh, clever half-breed. Clever, clever, filth of a hybrid that the universe hated. Clever little freak of nature. He had waited so long. He had sat on this little argument of his for a long time now, waited until she was too starving and in too much pain to think- _can't think can't think can't think-_ until he said this, and now she couldn't think of a reply, and if she couldn't think of a reply, then what was the point? She _was_ no use to Fenrir dead, but what use to him was she alive? But maybe she could find some use if she just stayed alive a little longer…

And suddenly she was eating and she had scarfed down half of what he had put in front of her before he put out more and her stomach hurt and she didn't care, didn't care, because if she was alive she would be of use- but not to this boy, she hated him, she hate, hate, hated him, even if his touch on her head made her wish that she could still cry, because she wanted to cry into it, wanted to cry on him, because she thought he would listen- and if she was of use then maybe Fenrir would be happy. Maybe he would be happy and she could see him smile and know that the life he'd saved wasn't totally worthless after all…

The light when she shifted was blinding. The pain- or rather, the absence of it- was incredible, a movement in her core, like the world was singing, and as she opened her eyes, all she saw was light and light and light…

And the red eyes of a half-breed who had refused to give up on her, smiling down.

"Loyalty," she tried to rasp; but he cut her off as the food started to settle and the searing absence of pain took its toll.

"Isn't life," he said quietly.

And somehow, as she faded into unconsciousness, she knew. She knew that, even though he was not right… he wasn't wrong, either.

* * *

"By all the realms," Loki breathed.

I would have said something similar, if I could have said anything at all. At the moment, however, I was speechless (a difficult feat, as most of my friends will agree). The five of us- including the halfblooded giants- were all staring at the transformed Bones; though only Loki and I seemed to be shocked in any way; the others seemed to think nothing of the sight before us. I wondered how that could possibly be; even if they knew this girl. Heck, _especially_ if they knew this girl, considering exactly how much like _crap_ she looked like right now.

The former she-wolf lay, completely unconscious, beneath a mostly-and-messily-eaten piece of meat that I hadn't even known that Puck had until a few days ago, preserved via- you guessed it- magic. And also salt. In the place of the massive Wyr who had attacked us was a very humanoid figure; pale as a sheet, with no color in her face, and ribs that showed through her form.

To say that she was 'emaciated' was an understatement. Even taking into account the fact that she hadn't eaten for a few days, it was obvious that she was too skinny to be healthy. She looked like she hadn't had a good meal in months. Years, even. Her cheeks were hollow, her closed eyes ringed by dark circles, her skin stretched taut over her sharp bones. Her elbows and knees and all other joints seemed like they were just… too _pointy._ All of the angles of her body were sharp and unforgiving.

Her hair, like her fur had been, was completely white. Its only color was given to it by the dirt and twigs caught up in it, and it, like the rest of her, was grimy and unwashed. Her long fingernails had dirt underneath them, as did the toenails of her bare and blackened feet. She looked… unhealthy. Like sheer willpower was all that was keeping her alive.

And then, of course, there were the scars.

It's hard to say which were the most obvious; which ones your eyes naturally gravitated towards first. With me, it was the ones on her arm- those horizontal lines that went up in a row, one after another, all the way up until they reached her inner elbow- but then, given the fact that I have very similar ones on my ankle, you could say that I'm biased. I think that most people's eyes would immediately go to the ones on her face; the ugly, ropy lines of damage that cut across her lips- the ones that had been on her muzzle in her other form- and the one through her eyebrow. But there were others, in a number of places, just from what I could see from this vantage point. And she seemed to not care if anyone saw them; her clothes were simple and light, short black shorts, and a short black shirt that showed off most of her stomach and had straps like a tank top. They seemed to fit well enough on her; or they would have, a few days ago, if she hadn't been starving herself further.

Long story short, she looked awful.

"Oh, hey," Reggie said, walking over to the Wyr. "Bones is back."

I stared at her damaged lip, at the old scar tissue. Even with her mouth closed, I could see one of her sharp teeth. I knew I shouldn't stare, but I couldn't stop myself, somehow. I knew the feeling, knew how annoying it was to feel as though you were on display, but I _still_ couldn't stop myself.

Puck nodded at his oldest sister. "Just fell asleep, though. We shouldn't wake her."

The two girls quickly agreed, backing away on silent feet and returning to where they had been settled down to sleep. Loki pulled himself away from the sight forcefully, questions running through his mind, and tugged on my hand to try and get me to follow. I didn't, and my hand fell limply to my side as he walked away. He didn't even seem to notice.

Who? That was the question in my brain: who had done this? Who _would_ do this? Oh, it was clear that the scars on Bones' face- and a few other places- were just old battle scars. Most immortals had those, that wasn't uncommon. Maybe they were not this obvious, but that didn't mean that they didn't exist. But the ones are her arm were _not._

Who would do that to a person? Who was that sick and depraved?

"Oh," Fraye mused. "Lots of people. The universe is a dark place, Natalie." She shrugged- I couldn't see her, but I could hear it in her voice- and added, "I know you know that."

It says a lot that I wasn't even paying attention to her. That I didn't even care an ounce about what she was saying. And, actually, it was Puck's gentle voice that pulled me out of my stupor.

"Natalie," he said, and I blinked, my eyes going to him. "You should get some sleep, too," he suggested.

I blinked again, shook my head out, and nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

I walked back over to Loki on autopilot, my movements jerky and stiff. I sat down next to him and turned my eyes onto anything and everything but Bones.

"You don't suppose…" Loki's voice was quiet. Almost weak. "Fenrir… he couldn't have…"

And when his words died, I didn't give him an answer. I didn't have an answer to give.

It was a long while before I slipped into dreams that night. I can't say they were nightmares, really, because I'd had worse nightmares than this. But it wasn't altogether _pleasant_.

I sat in a cage that grew smaller every time I took a breath, closed in tight around me. I shouted to the guard- _"Let me out!"_ – and he smiled softly, sadly. But he knew better than to let me out and I knew better than to ask him to do so. Horrible things were unleashed when I was released from my cage.

My visitors, the Avengers, all smiled at me. "It'll be okay," they said. "It'll all be okay."

And I listened to them. They had no reason to deceive me, no reason to lie…

And as the Avengers faded- and Loki gently kissed me goodbye through the bars- a man walked into the room. The others ignored him, or did not see him, but either way he walked inside without hindrance, walked up to the bars of my cage as I held my breath, trying to keep them from growing ever closer around me.

The stranger placed a hand on the bars, and they stopped shrinking. They stayed stable, still caging me there but not smothering me, not choking me. I looked up at him- a man with a cloak that covered his form, and a hood that hid most of his face, both the same grey as his eyes, which stared out from his otherwise shadowed features- and he looked back at me and I thought I saw him smile.

"I'm really sorry about this," he said, in what was almost a cheerful voice. "But it has to be done."

He stood. My eyes stayed on him as he left, though I found I could not move. His hand gripped the doorjamb as he hesitated, looking back at me.

 _"Really_ sorry," he emphasized. "I mean," he tipped a crooked grin in my direction. "You _are_ my _favorite_ , Natalie Laufeyson."

And the moment he said my name, I woke up.

I blinked a few times, staring into the darkness. There was an odd prickling at the back of my neck, an itch behind my eyes and something crawling down my back. I shuddered, trying to shake the feeling, patting myself down to make sure that no bugs or spiders or other forms of creepy-crawlies had made it under my clothes in the night. Thankfully not.

The other side of my makeshift bed was still warm, but it was conspicuously empty. I lifted my eyes up to the dark shadows that formed the world and tried to pick out one that matched the general shape of my husband; there he was, standing a short distance away, staring at the forest beside us. Looking for Fenrir, I was sure.

I closed my eyes and feigned sleep for a moment, just in case he came back. But when it was clear that he was not going to- and that he was not fooled by my act- I stood, crossing the distance between us.

He let me slip my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind and pressing my forehead against his back. His hand traced across my arm, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. But I couldn't let the silence rest.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't respond. He just stood there for a moment, staring off into the distance. I could feel something inside him quivering, and I hugged him tighter, trying to make it still, trying to calm and ease the shivering ache inside him. But it would not be helped.

"Will we ever be content, Frost?" he asked, very quietly.

"What?" I asked, pulling back just a little. "What do you mean?"

He carefully pried me off of him so that he could turn around, so that he could face me. Taking my chin in his hand, lifting it up so that I was forced to look into his eyes- glowing green in the starlight- he asked again, "Will we ever be content? Will we ever be satisfied with what we have?"

My eyebrows furrowed as his grip on my chin tightened just a little. "After all, we are already the king and queen of an entire realm. We have saved worlds, countless lives are in our debt! We are the _Shadowslayers,_ we are powerful beyond imagining; you have abilities beyond most, and yet we still wish for more. You wish for immortality, knowing what will come with it: the extended life span, the inability to be hurt by most conventionally mortal means, perhaps even the capacity for _magic…_ and will it be enough?" He tilted is head to the side. "Will we ever be _satisfied_ with what we have?"

I swallowed. "Loki," I breathed, as the pressure his hand was putting on my jaw became just a little bit too much. "You're hurting me."

He didn't seem to hear that. He was carrying on, deaf and blind to me. "We already have a great deal, Natalie. Why could we not be content with it? Why could we not be satisfied with what we have?

"And if you _do_ achieve immortality, will it be enough? Or will you still want more?" His eyes were gleaming too brightly. His grip on me was getting tighter, and there was an odd buzzing in the back of my skull, a fuzzy tickling in my thoughts. "Will you be satisfied with your long life as a Queen, or will you still want more? Will you want to eradicate your enemies, those people who disagree with you? Would you wish to _punish_ all of those who dislike you, who _hate_ you, because you were born human?"

"Loki, let go of me," I said, and though I could hear that it sounded firm and resolute, I did not feel that way. I felt… indistinct. Like I was in water, dissolving into it, my thoughts spreading out. Something was wrong here.

He didn't obey. If anything, his grip got tighter; and his other hand fell on my shoulder, fingers digging in. "Would you not be _happy_ with what you have? Would you not be happy with having friends who love you, a _family_ that loves you? Would you not be satisfied with only the Avengers, with only _me?_ Would you wish for more? For _children?"_ he sneered out the word like it was foul, disgusting, and I flinched as spittle flew from his lips. I tried to brace myself, to get ready to fight, because this was wrong, his grip was too tight, he shouldn't be hurting me like this… but I realized with a start that I was paralyzed. Frozen in place, my limbs too heavy to move, locked solid where they were. No matter how I thrashed about- and I could barely bring myself to do that, my thoughts were convoluted, my head was dizzy, I thought I might throw up- I could only move the barest of half-inches.

"Would it never be enough for you?" he sneered. "Would you always want _more?_ "

And I shuddered because maybe he was right, but maybe he wasn't, I mean, didn't I deserve _some_ happiness? After all I'd done…

"All you've _done?"_ he shrieked out a laugh, and it struck me, somewhere deep down in my core, and the buzzing in the back of my head got worse, got _louder._ Somehow, it was the most distinct part of my thoughts at the moment, and I clung to it, tried to listen to it, tried to hear what was going on in the static. "All you've _done,_ _ **Natalie Laufeyson,**_ is allow a _madman_ to take the lives of _thousands!_ You have done _nothing!_ _ **Nothing**_ for your world! You slaughtered thousands of people, Natalie, it was _you!_ "

I was shivering. His grip was so tight that I could feel the bones in my shoulder grinding together, the bones in my jaw doing the same. But I was frozen and I couldn't fight back, but the buzzing static was getting louder, clearer, and as it shouted out my name I knew that this person standing before me wasn't Loki.

The person shouting at me in the static… _that_ was Loki.

"Natalie!" he shouted louder; and suddenly there were explosions behind my eyes, and the imposter before me bared teeth that turned into needle-points. The image of Loki dissolved, became a formless black shape, twisting about until it was humanoid again, until long claws were digging into my skin and those teeth were smiling a hideous smile, and a whisper-voice sneered at me, "Perhaps I should give them their vengeance… take your life for their own…"

And Loki- the real Loki- shouted in my head, " _Natalie, MOVE!"_

And it was Loki's voice, but in my head, it was Clint's words. Shouting at me in our training center. And all I could do was snap at attention and obey- yes sir, right away sir!- and despite the paralysis, I flung myself to the side, just missing the swipe of the imposter's claws as they came within inches of my head. I felt them snag on- and cut through- a few hairs, but I ignored that, rolling off to the side.

The creature shrieked as I kept rolling, not bothering to look up at it, not bothering to think, just listening to the real Loki's voice in my thoughts. And as I ducked to the side, Loki was suddenly right beside the creature, driving his spear towards it, Puck and Reggie close behind.

I pulled myself upright, dazed and confused, not bothering to fuse my thoughts with Loki's just yet, not wanting to make my emotions into his disadvantage. He let out a battle cry as he stabbed at the creature, and I blinked a few times, trying to take in the scene. Puck and Reggie joined him as I did so.

The creature was a very simplistic thing; a pure black shade, like the ones Fraye used with a few key differences: firstly, the gleaming white teeth in its mouth, claws on its hands, and the empty, clouded white eyes that stared at the world in pure hate.

Oh, and then there was the telekinesis.

The creature swept its hand to the side; and Loki went with it, an invisible force throwing him aside. It pounced on him, letting out a chilling shriek that sounded distinctly birdlike. It moved with an unnerving kind of swiftness, the kind of blurring speed that made me sick to look at it.

As it threw itself on top of Loki, who was collapsed on the ground, I snapped out of it and threw myself forwards, flaring my shield. I didn't reach him in time, but I didn't need to; Puck and Reggie were already there, working as a team that was somewhat unnerving in and of itself. Their coordination was so smooth, their teamwork so flawless, that it was kinda unsettling.

One of Puck's arrows sliced through the air, forcing the creature to whip its hand to the side, sending the arrow skittering away without ever touching it. But Reggie was already there, slamming her staff into its spine, a blow vicious enough to shatter a human's bones. But this thing was clearly no human, and though it fell forwards- and off of Loki- it righted itself swiftly, crouching down so low to the ground that it was almost on all fours. Its pupil-less white eyes locked on me and narrowed in pure loathing, like I was everything that was wrong with the world, and I had to wonder what this thing was; how much of it was animal, and how much was a cognitive, thinking being.

Clearly, it was smarter than most animals- the fact that it had spoken to me earlier, in one form or another, clarified that- but I really couldn't see this thing getting too philosophical. If _I think, therefore I am,_ well, then this thing clearly wasn't doing a whole lot of thinking. Or a lot of… well, _being._

Well, whatever it was, and whatever it thought, I had very little qualms with killing the SOB. After all, it clearly had just as many qualms with killing _me._

Puck kept shooting arrows as he got closer, rarely missing. He wasn't as good as Hawkeye, but the kid was pretty good nonetheless; and if it weren't for the crazy telekinetic powers, he probably would've gotten some gnarly hits in. Reggie, too, was running into problems with that telekinesis; her staff rarely-if-ever struck the creature, unless it was distracted by Puck, first.

But that was okay. Because they were keeping the thing busy. And that gave me long enough to strike.

I _felt_ the impact, all the way in my bones, as my force field slammed into the creature. It cried out in a scream of pain, falling forwards as Loki set fire to the ground around it; as clearly, blunt instruments weren't working well. Reggie and Puck danced around the fire expertly, but I didn't need to, courtesy of the mighty bubble.

The creature growled, backing away from the flames, and lifted its clawed 'hands' into the air; I struggled as I found myself being lifted off of the ground, held above it, a strange pressure on my throat that built and built and kept on building until I was sure that I would black out; or that my neck would snap. I saw the other three suffering the same fate and panicked. _No. No, not here, not now, not like this… not Loki, not Puck, not Reggie, not Katy…_

No. Katy wasn't here. Somehow, that was a small relief, but it _was_ a relief… Katy wouldn't die…

 _None of them will_ _ **die.**_

It rocked through me, a new determination, and I sent my force field out as far as I could, out in stabbing points, heedless of their direction. As this field expanded to a diameter it hadn't reached since my battle with Fraye, I felt four of these spikes hit a target; though I wasn't sure what that target entirely _was._

Still, one of those spikes must've gotten the creature, because the pressure was gone, and I fell to the ground, landing hard on my shoulder, choking and gagging.

 _Note to self,_ I thought as I tried to regain my breath, seeing spots swirling and dancing in front of my eyes. _Telekinesis can get through the force field._

Good to know. Also good to know that telekinesis actually existed out there in the universe. I certainly didn't know of any magic that could make things move without touching them; not like _that,_ anyway _._

I looked up, trying to see what I'd hit, and was glad to see that two of those spikes had driven themselves through the shoulder and leg of the creature. Another had made a hole in a nearby tree, and the fourth had gotten Reggie's leg. She was cursing, but standing, clearly fine. I felt sick that I'd hurt her, but I couldn't deal with it now. Survival first. Survival for us all.

The creature lashed out, and I felt something invisible- probably some form of telekinetic energy- rush past me. It backed away as we all closed in, fire at its back, fire closing in around it as Loki and Puck pressed their flame-laced hands to the ground. It tried to avoid the plumes of smoke, the brilliant, vivid orange, but it was clear that this was a losing battle. Loki struck out with his spear, I with my shield, Reggie with her staff and Puck with a blast of flames- impressive, considering that flames were not typically used as a combative magic- and the creature could only dodge or block them so many times before my force field lanced through its heart.

It bled a shining, opalescent white onto the field, slumping over. I let the shield die, and the corpse that had been impaled on it collapsed in a limp heap on the ground. The blood splashed down with it, and I took a step back, breathing heavily, watching it in wary disgust.

We all remained immobile for a moment. Then, within the space of half a heartbeat, Loki moved to my side. His hand went to my cheek, and he lifted my face up, examining me with hard eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Peachy," I replied breathlessly, then immediately began searching him. His injuries were minor; there was a slash mark clawed into his side, but otherwise he looked fine. "You?"

He gave me a swift nod to let me know he was okay, and Reggie rolled her red eyes, kneeling down so that she could examine the large gash on her leg. "We're all _fine,_ thank you."

I brushed Loki aside (he was still hovering, looking me over, turning me around so that he could examine me properly) and walked over to Reggie, crouching down beside her. "How bad?"

She grunted, shrugging, flicking out her fingers a few times until they glowed silver-gold, as though she was jump-starting them. "Had worse." Puck crouched down beside her moments later, and she pressed her fingertips to a cut across his forehead before she returned to tending her own wound. "You've looked better," she told him.

He shook his head. "Barely a scratch." He fell back, sitting on his knees, and looked to me as I asked, "Where's Katy?"

"She stayed back," he replied. "Watched over Bones. She's still asleep."

I nodded, feeling a pit in my stomach as Loki wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I tucked myself into him, careful to avoid the new injury by his ribcage. Everyone was fine. Everyone was safe. I took a few moments to let that settle in before I could let myself clarify what was truly worrying me.

Loki took care of that for me, saying the words before I could. "You thought it was me."

As all of us looked to him, he repeated, "You thought that… _creature_ was me. That's why you did not run."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "It looked like you. It talked like you. It was…" I shuddered. "It was even in my head."

Puck and Reggie exchanged a long and meaningful look. "That'll happen," Reggie grunted after a minute, opting for bluntness. She pulled a bandage out of Puck's traveling cloak and wrapped it around her injured leg.

"That _can't_ happen," I insisted, shaking my head. "Nothing can break the bond between Loki and I. Nothing can get in our heads. _Nothing."_

Reggie barked out a miserable laugh. "Nothing but what's out here," she grumbled, standing. "The universe is a big and scary place, Natalie. There's no such thing as 'nothing'."

Puck shot her a glare. "What my tactless sister _means_ to say is that… well…" he shrugged helplessly. "We're on the homeworld of creatures that can see through time. Impossible isn't really… 'impossible', anymore."

The words gave me a chill; and I knew I wasn't the only one. Loki's arm tightened around me defensively, possessively. There were many things in this universe that were not safe for us, so many things that could hurt us, could kill us. But one place that had always been safe, one place that we had believed always _would_ be safe, now that there was nothing keeping us apart from each other, was our minds. Not even Fraye could break us apart when we agreed. That was how we'd _killed_ Fraye; because we were linked irrevocably and unbreakably through our thoughts.

And now this… this _thing,_ this creature that seemed to be little more than an animal… it could _break_ that? It could get _between_ us?

If that was how powerful the animals of this world were… then how much more powerful were the _Faden?_

I swallowed hard and tightened my own grip on my other half. Our thoughts were no longer the impenetrable fortress that they had once been. The thought was frightening on a very core level.

But Puck and Reggie didn't seem nearly as disturbed as we were. And though Puck was shooting us both apologetic looks, Reggie seemed to be looking at us as though we were some kind of naïve idiots. That made Loki bristle, made him pull himself back together; he would never let it be said of himself that he was _naïve._ Standing, straightening up and helping me to do the same, he looked with disdain to the creature that we had slaughtered- or the person we had murdered, I still wasn't entirely sure- and turned away from the half-breeds. He walked back to camp, keeping my hand in his… but I let his fingers slip away and turned back to Puck and Reggie instead. "You two need any help?"

Reggie kicked the creature's corpse, hooking her thumbs in her pockets. "Nah, we're good," she replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, testing out her injured leg. It didn't seem to bother her much. Puck nodded his agreement.

"You should try and get some more sleep," he advised. "We still have a long walk tomorrow."

I nodded curtly, turning back to Loki; he had been waiting for me, a perplexed look on his face. Of course, we both knew that there was too much adrenaline in our systems for sleep, but the pair of us headed back to camp regardless.

Katydid was watching us with wide eyes as we came back; I reassured her quickly that, "We took care of it, Katy. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

She considered, then glanced to Bones. Patting the wolf's head once, she crawled back into her blankets and curled up in a ball, falling asleep quite quickly. She seemed to trust that we'd been telling the truth, and seemed not to care that we both looked a little beaten and bedraggled; like this was only too ordinary.

I helped Loki bandage his side, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. We were both too tired to stay sitting up, but too wired to sleep, so for a while, we lay next to each other, staring up at the sky and wondering about telepathy, about how ours was so easily broken.

And we stayed wondering, until the cold light of dawn was just beginning to peer over the horizon. And as I drifted off at last, still wondering if the creature had been an animal or something more, I could've sworn that I heard the man from my dreams, whispering in my ear, _"Sorry, my favorite Natalie. But it truly_ _ **was**_ _necessary."_

* * *

Bones didn't talk all that next morning. Loki spent hours questioning her, but she didn't say a word; not about why she was here, who she was, why Fenrir had trusted her, what her relationship was to him… nothing. He finally decided that too much time had been wasted talking to her and carried on, moving onwards as Puck guided us. But Bones' insistent silence had put the Trickster in a decidedly bad mood, and his footsteps were heavy as he walked. I tried to balance him out, to keep upbeat, but his moodiness threatened to drag me down as well.

I understood it. But we all had our reasons to be upset, not just him. I, for one, was still thinking of what had happened yesterday, of the telekinetic creature that had somehow deceived even my undeceivable thoughts. And then I had to _stop_ thinking about that, because then I'd start shaking, and Loki would wonder what was wrong…

But I'd just discovered- admittedly not for the first time- that my head was not the private place I'd always believed it was. That kind of revelation is always something that'll shake you to your core, and I don't care who you are.

Loki scouted ahead for us in the direction that Puck indicated to him. I let him go alone- I suspected that he needed to be alone right now- even though I really didn't want to let him out of my sight. I didn't want him coming back without really being him at all.

The fear was new to me, and it drove me batty; was this how normal people felt? Normal immortals, at least? Did they feel like they could not trust the people they cared about most, couldn't let them out of their sight, because then they might return as telepaths or shapeshifters or something else that really _wasn't_ them? How did they not go insane with worry? How did anyone trust anything, if they couldn't even trust the person in their head?

The five of us- me, Reggie, Puck, Katy and Bones- walked behind him for a very long time, allowed him the privacy of scouting ahead. Puck tried to initiate a conversation with me a couple times, but it soon became clear to both of us that my head wasn't really all there at the moment. I was worried, too. Loki was the one person who- against all reason- I trusted. And I trusted him because he was in my brain, yes, but also because I loved him. He had betrayed me before while he was in my brain, though; and I wondered if he was worried that I'd think he'd do it again. I wondered if _I_ should be worried that he _would._

I didn't worry, though. Instead, I jogged ahead, placing Puck in charge- I still had power of him, after all, through the key- and caught up to Loki a few minutes later.

He was moving silently, stewing, and blinked at me in surprise as I caught up to him and wrapped my arm around his. "Hey," I said. "You okay?"

He looked me up and down for a moment. Then, quietly, turning away, he asked, "Are you, you?"

"Don't know who else I would be."

"One of those _things_ , perhaps?" He inquired softly. "Something else? Some new horror this world wishes to unleash on us?" he sighed quietly. "I expected a dangerous journey, Frost. Not this."

"The greatest danger always comes from the people we love the most," I said, quietly. "You know this. You've always known this." I squeezed his arm tighter. "It's the strong ones that push through and carry on loving regardless."

He smiled slyly-yet-sadly at me. "Then you are the strongest person that I have ever met."

I grinned. "Not compared to you. I still don't know how you manage it sometimes."

It was a joke, but it was also partially true, and it made him smile. He wrapped his arm around me, and I tucked myself into his side.

And we carried on together, into the unknown.

Loki was a little more cheerful after that, despite our prisoner's continued silence. We carried on walking together, already discussing the things we missed from home and how different things were here. It was getting hotter outside now, which was odd; the temperature seemed to fluctuate quite a bit.

The three half-breeds made do by throwing blasts of ice into the air, which fractured to snow, drifting down around their heads while they laughed. It was interesting, to watch them all. They were such… well, kids. And above that, they were such _siblings._ You could tell, immediately, even without their similar features, even without already _knowing,_ that they had all grown up together. That they were family. The littlest, who needed to be protected-and teased- by the two elders, the peace-making middle sibling (even though she admittedly had a temper), the semi-bossy older brother who was used to being left in charge… they all fell into their roles. And yet, they were all more than just their roles; they were each their own individual, unique person.

And they were each wonderful, in their own way.

They pelted each other with snowballs as we walked, but eventually the mock-battle became a little too serious when one came too close to Katy's eye and Puck freaked. The girls rolled their eyes behind his back when he said 'that's enough for the day', and when he walked forward to join Loki and I, Reggie stuffed some snow down the back of her little sister's shirt.

But Puck seemed abruptly serious as he walked towards us. "We're being followed," he said without prelude.

I blinked, immediately-yet subtly- checking out the surrounding area. We'd passed the forest ages ago, but it was beginning to form in the distance. And there were enough nooks and crannies for a person to lose themselves in; enough that even Clint and Natasha would've had a difficult time locating a spy. It wasn't so surprising that we hadn't noticed.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed more skeptical of the half-breed's assumption. "Are you quite certain?"

He nodded once. "Bones is acting twitchy," he replied, gesturing with the barest nod of the head in the Wyr Wolf's direction. She was stumbling over her own feet, looking half-dead but determined to carry on, strands of uneven white hair falling into her moon-silver eyes. I watched her a little more closely, but could find nothing to fit the definition of 'twitchy'.

"She keeps looking that way," Puck carried on, with a small gesture towards the forest ahead of us. "It's Fenrir."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Her eyes lit up," he answered; and now his eyes seemed a little darker, the words a little sourer, like he just didn't want to admit to this fact. "As much as I hate to say it, she still serves him. She'll do anything for him; and it's clear that she's egging him on."

It hadn't been so clear to Loki and I, that was certain. We exchanged a brief look before my shrink side won out and I was forced to demand, "Puck, how do you knowBones?"

"What?" he asked, turning to me, seemingly pulled out of a reverie. His thoughts had been deeper than his light conversation had suggested.

"You've made it obvious that you know her," I prodded. "And she was the one you said was following us before, wasn't she? You knew Reggie and Katydid were following… but you knew she was too, didn't you? And you said that she wasn't a threat. How do you know that?"

His lips mashed into a line, and he looked straight forward without answering.

I carried on, "And you've stopped any harm from befalling her; it's clear that you know her, clear that you _care_ about her… So how do you know her?"

Loki, sensing that I was in my element, and that he would only make things harder for me, took a few quick steps, so that he was walking ahead of us. Puck didn't seem to notice. His red eyes were thoughtful, pensive, and just the slightest bit trapped.

"I don't," he said at last. "At least… right now, I guess I don't. I think the closest thing that I could say is that I know _of_ her. That I know a lot _about_ her, about… I guess about what she _could_ be."

My eyebrows furrowed. "What she _could_ be?"

His shrugged. "Everyone has potential. Hers was just… squashed down a little, y'know?"

I blinked. "Potential for… what, exactly?"

He only shrugged again. "To be a good person. A _great_ person. To fight with the good guys." He shook his head a few slow times, looking down. "She's not a bad person. She's just… been through some bad stuff."

At this point, Katydid started wailing because Reggie had shoved her down into a Jotun-created snowbank, so Puck quickly excused himself, ducking back to the pair of them and pulling them off of each other, comforting Katy and chastising Reggie. I watched him go, feeling something stirring in my chest, and odd mixture of emotions: mainly nostalgia and a strange sense of pride.

Loki lingered back until he was side by side with me yet again, likely sensing that strange mixture of feelings. Carefully, he wrapped one arm around my waist. He didn't have to ask anything, just gave me a questioning look.

I sighed, leaning into him briefly before separating us both so that we could walk more easily. "I was like that once, Loki. Optimistic about people. Wanting to help them. Now if anyone's in my way, if anyone's being a jerk… it's just because that's who they are. I don't _care_ anymore." I sighed heavily. "I didn't even _think_ about what Bones must've been through until I saw those _scars…_ "

Loki's lip curled up at the corner, and he pulled me back into the half-hug so that he could kiss the top of my head. "Oh, Natalie," he murmured there- I could feel his breath in my hair, and I couldn't help but smile a little as he added, "You've changed a lot less than you realize."

I looked to him when he pulled back, his gaze going forward but his eyes still dancing as he chuckled softly to himself. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, still smiling myself.

"It hardly matters if you are precisely the way that you once were," he replied. "You are _trying_ to be. At the very least, you are _trying_ to retain the _good_ qualities of yourself." He chuckled once again. "You've spent all those months with Fraye. And while it may have changed you… it did not change you enough. Because you still wish to change _back._ "

I felt myself smiling a little wider. Linking my arm with him, I chuckled quietly. "Yeah," I said, my cheeks warming up until they were clearly pink. "Maybe."

* * *

A few days later, I woke up.

The others were still fast asleep- Puck, Reggie and Katydid all curled up together in the world's weirdest dog pile, with Bones curled up nearby but still alone, and Loki lying directly next to me, my arm around him- but I woke up, uncertain as to why I was doing so.

Not often a good sign, in my life.

I stood up, pulled my hair back and tied it up, and started to move about. The air was cold, and we had already made it into the forest by now; there were trees everywhere, and the three half-breeds had promised that it would take far too long, and be far too dangerous, for us to go around it. We listened to them; they were our guides, after all.

As I started to walk around- I figured I'd go for a jog or something- I started to feel some kind of tickle in my belly. As I made my way away from the campsite, that tickle turned into a buzz. I stepped back, thinking that something on the planet might be affecting me, that maybe there was some new safety-in-numbers BS going on, but as I did so, that buzz became a full-on roller coaster feeling in my stomach. By the time I made it a few trees away from the group, I fell down on all fours and started retching. I was there for quite a while.

"Oog…" I moaned once the vomiting finally stopped. I fell back onto my butt, rubbing my forehead, wondering what was wrong. It took me a few minutes, but I narrowed it down to three things: an alien bug I didn't know about, the constant shifts in gravity I'd been going through lately (what with my journeys between Midgard and Jotunheim, then to whatever-the-heck-this-place-was-named), or the overglorified, interplanetary version of motionsickness. This planet, despite the fact that its atmosphere had been altered to accommodate us, _did_ seem to go through its days faster than our home planets. Which meant that the ground beneath our feet was moving faster than I was used to.

I'd all but had myself reassured that it was one of these three options- and I hoped it was one of the latter two- when I heard a voice behind me. A voice that, these days, I knew almost as well as I knew my own.

"Feeling ill?"

I turned to the source- I'd stopped doing that ages ago, she was never there- but there she stood, for the first time in ages. I felt my eyebrows go up but, surprisingly, I wasn't scared. Like, somehow, despite how crystal clear she was, this hallucination wasn't so vivid.

She walked over to me, perching down on a large boulder a few feet in front of me. I shrugged. "Just a few stomach problems," I told her. "Nothing I can't shake off."

"Hmm." Fraye said quietly. "Yes, you've managed to 'shake off' most things rather well, haven't you?" Her eyes went briefly to the scars on my forearm.

I think I laughed. It was more like a chortle, but I guess, technically, I laughed. Sitting back on my hands, I looked to her- to that pale skin, those black eyes, those fingernails with my blood still crusted beneath them- and I found myself asking the question that I'd been wanting to ask for ages; without knowing that I'd wanted it. "Why are you still here, Fraye?"

She looked back at me, curiously, her head tilting to the side and her shadow-colored hair spilling with it. "Why?" she repeated.

"Why," I agreed. "Why are you still here, why do you want to haunt me, why is any of this still _happening?_ "

She blinked, leaned back on her hands a little more, and considered that for a moment as her legs swung back and forth. "Why do you still want me around?"

"I don't," I replied without even pausing to think. "I never did. Why can't you just _leave_ me _be-"_

"I gave you that opportunity, Natalie," she said, quite calmly, quite kindly. But Fraye was always kind. Until she wasn't. "And you let it slip by."

I swallowed, a glimmer of understanding passing through me. I tried to push it aside, to shove it down, but it kept growing inside of me, an unstoppable, tangled weed.

"I'm still here, Natalie," she said quietly, "Because you didn't want to let me die."

I shut my eyes, closed them against those words, against their meaning and their truth. But they had been spoken- they weren't just inside of me anymore, Fraye had said them out loud and acknowledged their existence- and they wouldn't go away. I hadn't let her die. I had let her stay in Elliroth and I had let her stay in my mind. And as much as I wanted to go back now, to let her go, I knew that, even if I could… I wouldn't. I hated her too much, too damned much, to let her be free.

Even if I was caging myself while I was at it.

What was the saying? The one my mom used to say? "Revenge is like drinking poison, and hoping the other person dies."

How true it was. And my enemy was already dead.

How much more poison was I going to drink?

I opened my eyes again, and she was still there, sitting and watching, her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her hands and a dreamy little kiddy smile on her face. I shook my head slowly, sighing through my teeth. It came out with a little bit of a whistle, which seemed to amuse her greatly.

"I wish I could let you die," I told her. "I really, truly, do."

"So what's stopping you?"

I pulled my legs towards my chest, wrapped my arms around them. "Everything," I replied. "Everything that happened in those four months. Every time I think about forgiving you… I remember one of the things I went through all over again, and I just… can't do it. I can't." I looked down. "And… if that makes me into an Avenger… then I have to accept it. That's who I am. Who I _want_ to be."

She rolled her jewel-black eyes and grumbled, "Humans." Leaning forwards, meeting my gaze exactly, she said in a no-nonsense tone, "Natalie Laufeyson, that is the singular most ridiculous thing I have ever heard come from your mouth. And you're a pretty ridiculous being."

I blinked at her. Somehow, her words were a little less sugar-sweet now, a little more down-to-earth. They were just … _different_.

"For starters, the Avengers is a fairly lifelong commitment," she said, waving a hand. "You know them better than most. They're not going to _let_ you go if you _asked._ And all of those things I did to you… they're all part of the _past."_ She rolled her eyes again, which gleamed like shards of glass. "Human beings cling onto the past so _tightly._ You don't _need_ it, Natalie. Not if it hurts you. Not if it leads to _this._ "

I stared at her for a very long time, looking her up and down, taking her in in her entirety. And then I smiled, so softly, at her. Laughing once to myself, looking down, I nodded a few slow times and leaned back on my own hands, looking up into her obsidian eyes.

"So," I said, as she stared back at me. "Who are you really?"

She blinked, like she was startled or something. "What?"

"You heard me," I said, feeling a little smile playing across my lips. "What are you, one of those telekinetic things that we had to deal with the other day? Because, you know, I won't just pick a fight with you if you are, just… if _you_ start it." I shrugged mildly, both palms up. "But you know what us humans say, fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice…" I let it trail off, looking up into her pretty black eyes that were just so very sad, so very dead, so very gone.

But, after a moment, a sly smile spread across her face, and those eyes creased, lit up with the gesture. Chuckling quietly, she asked, "What gave me away?"

"You got too excited about helping me out," I replied easily. "Fraye doesn't do that. Especially not the Fraye up here. And she always calls me Natalie Frost, not Laufeyson." I knocked on the side of my noggin with my clenched fist and then leaned back again. "So you know who I am. And you?"

She smiled again, looking down. "A friend."

"Could've said that up front, if you were. You didn't have to go through the charade."

"Well I'm afraid I rather did," she said, looking back up to me with her head still tucked down, her smile turning sheepish. "You see, my family will be ever-so-upset with me if they knew I was here. And it is _so_ hard to keep secrets from them. Why, they're already becoming suspicious of my whereabouts and… oh, yes, now they've found me." She smiled a dazzling smile. "Well, then. I suppose there's no more use for disguises."

She shimmered in my sight, a ripple in the air that was strangely hard to look at. It sent my nausea back to me, and I felt my stomach twist in a way that made me worry I would throw up again. I barely managed to keep it down, breathing through my mouth and swallowing hard a few times. As the image dissipated, a new one took its place, and I swallowed again.

Somehow I knew- though I'd never gotten a clear look at his face before- that this was the man I'd seen in my dream the other night. It was the same grey in his eyes, the same wry look in them. And he wore the same cloak of the same grey color, though it was no longer over his head, and thus it no longer hid his face. I could see him clearly for the first time, and for a long moment, I took him in.

He was middle-aged; or at least appeared to be. He had a few wrinkles, mostly around his mouth and eyes, like he had spent most of his life smiling and laughing. His salt-and-pepper hair was more salt than pepper, mostly grey with black scattered about. And his beard- complete with moustache, all of it short and well-trimmed - was completely grey, as were his thick eyebrows. But the rest of him looked younger than the hair made him appear at first glance; his skin was relatively smooth, and when he held out a hand to me, it wasn't wrinkled or anything. Not very, anyway.

"Humans shake hands when they introduce themselves, correct?" he said, his grey eyes gleaming brilliantly. They were definitely the most prominent feature on his face.

"They do," I agreed, taking his hand. "So, please, introduce yourself."

He smiled. "I am the Grey."

My heart seized.

He laughed once at the look on my face as my heart kick-started again and he dropped my hand. "You seem surprised."

"The Grey?" I asked with a dry mouth. "As in, the _Grey Man?_ The member of the _Faden?"_

"The very same," he agreed. I could taste my freaking heartbeat. How does _that_ happen?

"So… when you said that your _family_ would be _upset_ with you…"

He smiled. It was a dazzling smile, seemed to take over his entire face. He seemed like the kind of guy who should always be smiling. Yet somehow, that also kinda made him look like a maniac. "I was speaking of my brother and sister, yes. My fellow Faden."

I gulped. I'd come here to see the Faden; the last thing I needed was for them to be mad at me before I even laid eyes on most of them.

"They will be- indeed they are- oh… what's the word…? Ah, yes." He smiled again, brilliant and innocent. "They're pissed."

I felt my face go shock-blank again, and he laughed loudly. Loud enough to compete with the strange echo in my ears. "Do you know, everyone seems so surprised to hear me curse in their languages, yet never surprised that I know the language in the first place." He laughed again, a little quieter this time. "I'm keeping my siblings at bay, for now, but they will be here at any minute. It's only inevitable." He shrugged, like he didn't really care so much about that.

I tried to pull my thoughts together- this had, admittedly, caught me off guard a little more than I was proud of- and finally came up with a reasonable question. "Don't you think… I mean, if you're a _friend…_ and this is making them _angry…_ then maybe you shouldn't have done it? Shouldn't have _risked_ anything? I mean…" No, that wasn't reasonable enough. "Wait, no… I just… what do you even _want_ with me? Why are you even _here…?_ "

"For reasons unknown to all of us, Mrs. Laufeyson."

The voice was cold, cruel, colder and crueler than I would've believed, and it came from behind me. I turned just as the Grey Man clapped his hands together and, still grinning, cried jubilantly, "Ah! _Dear_ sister, what took you so long? Were my little hindrances _truly_ so debilitating for you?" He clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head once. "You're losing your edge."

I, on the other hand, had a very different reaction to the person in front of me than my so-called 'friend' did. And I was not quite so cavalier.

The White Specter- it was clearly her- stood in front of me, far taller than a human, far taller than a Jotun, and clearly not concerned with keeping a human form. She barely had _any_ form, for that matter. Just a vaguely feminine shape made out of a haze of brilliant white light; light that burned like a candle flame, fading in and out and flickering slowly. I could see nothing of her features, nothing of her face; if she had one at all. I somehow sensed that she did- or at least, that she was watching me, intently, through some hidden eyes.

"This has gone too far, brother," she said, her voice clearly female, and also stern, filled with the violence of thunder. "You are interfering with things that are not your right to interfere with."

"Oh?" The Grey Man asked. The longer I stared at the White Specter, the more my eyes burned. "Then tell me, who _shall_ interfere, hmm?" He seemed quite pleased with this turn of events, and I got the strongest feeling that I was just one way for him to make his sister angry. I suppose families are families; even time-watching, intergalactic families. "Certainly not _you,"_ he carried on.

She turned to me- at least, I think she did- before looking back to her brother and saying, "Erase its memory. This event was not to have happened; and it is the only way to undo the damage you've done."

"Erase _what_ now?" I demanded, taking a step back. The Grey rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically.

"And if I refuse?" he inquired.

"Then it shall be done without your consent." There was something about the intensity of her voice that suggested that it would also be painful. Like, super painful. And possibly that she would purposely mess things up, just to spite him. I felt my hands start to shake and immediately readied myself for a fight, laughable as my attempt might be. My nausea was back, but this time it was combined with something else, something… familiar. Something horrible and dangerous, that I'd felt once before…

I remembered only as the Grey sighed again; it was the same feeling I'd had when Puck had exploded. When that circle of devastation had been created around him. That same exact feeling, like I was seeing something so very _wrong,_ something so far outside of my understanding of nature that it could never truly be comprehended. The White Specter seemed not to notice the effect she had.

The Grey Man, however, _did._

"Sister!" He scolded, stepping between myself and her. "Take care! She is only a mortal, after all; and with her condition, would it not be _best_ for you to take a different form?"

"Condition?" I inquired, trying to quell the headache I was starting to get. There seemed to be something in the air- some extra sound wave, something _off_ with the air around me- that suggested something to me that I hadn't expected; a feeling, like these two were not only communicating with the- very English- words that they were saying. Like they were having a thousand different conversations, in a thousand different languages, and not one of those languages used the spoken word.

I was ignored. The White Specter turned away- this time I knew for sure- and said over her shoulder, "Then you'd best take care of this quickly."

I felt the Grey Man's eyes on me before I turned to see them. And when I did turn to look at him, they were filled with pity.

"Aww," I complained. "Really?"

He chuckled quietly. "Apologies, my favorite Natalie." He said with a gentle shrug. "But my sister's will is a force to contend with. And should my brother become involved…"

I raised a hand, waving it about, trying not to freak out, trying to be cool with this whole thing. I was somehow a lot calmer than I should've been, and I suspected that they were manipulating my emotions. If they were, they were definitely making sure that I didn't care enough to ask. "I get it. Family business. Just…" I looked up to him, to his grey eyes, and bit my lip, uncertain of how I should ask this. "If immortality _is_ possible, then…"

He beamed, that crazily huge grin that was just as much 'crazy' as 'huge'. "Naturally it is, Lady Laufeyson, and naturally, I shall help you with your quest." His eyes darted to his sister and narrowed. "Them, I am not so certain about."

"We do what is best for time," she answered curtly as she began to fade away. "No more. No less."

And she vanished.

"Bitch," I muttered, surprised to hear the Grey Man grumbling it at the same time. And then I laughed a little, one of those embarrassing nervous giggles that I so rarely got anymore. He reached forward, pressing his fingertips to my forehead.

"Don't worry," he promised. "You'll feel nothing."

"And remember less?"

"That is the plan."

And the world went black.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the late chapter, guys, and sorry if the last chapter was boring or anything. ^^; It was… really hard to write this one, after the last one didn't get reviews.**

 **So I guess what I'm saying is, please review! It really helps me write. :)**


	15. The Forest of Fear

**A/N: Sorry for the late update… again. -_- Thank you all for your reviews, though, they make my day! :)**

"You sleep too much," Puck complained as he shook me awake. "C'mon, everyone's waiting for you."

I blinked a few times, feeling groggy and a little unwell. My stomach grumbled loudly, and I felt my cheeks go pink as Puck laughed. "C'mon," he repeated, tossing me a piece of fruit. "We should get moving."

I sat up, glancing across the campsite. Loki was already busy packing everything up, Reggie was missing for one reason or another, Katy was busy training, and Bones was lying on the ground, staring up at the sky with an empty gaze. Puck noticed me watching her and said, "She's said nothing, but I'm getting her to eat again. She'll live."

He helped me to my feet, and I felt dizzy for a split second. Rubbing my head, I asked, "What happened last ni… no. Okay, never mind, I'm good." I shook my head out, clearing the brief fuzziness in it that cleared instantaneously. "Let's get moving."

"Not quite," Puck cut me off. "There's a river nearby. Reggie's taking a bath and, quite frankly, I think we could all benefit from doing the same."

Well, he wasn't wrong. I mean, granted, there were a few magical alternatives that helped us from needing to take a bath every day, but none of the nine realms had yet to find a better way to clean themselves off than good old-fashioned water. I nodded. "Quite," I said wryly, looking down to the fruit in my hand. For some reason, I felt a little timid; I really didn't want to eat right now. I wasn't sure why- I didn't feelsick or anything- but I knew that it probably wouldn't be a good idea. I set it aside with the rest of our food stash and headed over to Loki, assisting him with his task.

"G'morning," I said, rubbing my eyes tiredly, unable to shake an uneasy feeling that stirred somewhere in the back of my mind. He didn't seem to notice it, so I pushed it out of my thoughts; I trusted his judgment. He would've known if there was something wrong with my head better than I would.

He was in a better mood than I'd expected him to be. He'd been brooding quite a bit lately, what with Fenrir's betrayal, Bones' refusal to speak, and all the other crap, and I'd been fending off the storm of his anger for quite a while… but today, it seemed, I had no need to.

"Frost," he greeted me, kissing me swiftly on the lips as I came in sight of him. His green eyes were shining dazzlingly, and not in the crazy, _I'm-gonna-destroy-everything_ way, or the cynical, _You-couldn't-touch-me-with-a-ten-foot-pole-peasant_ way either. No, it was the shining brilliance of nothing more or less than that of a genius being allowed to think and think until all of the thoughts in his chaotic brain have been sufficiently worked out, organized neatly. His next words confirmed that assessment: "I've been thinking about Fenrir."

I quirked an eyebrow as he finished the ties on the last bag- Katy's- and turned to me. That was interesting. He seemed much less angry than I'd thought he would be. "Do continue," I prodded.

"It's simple," he replied in a tone that suggested it really, truly was. "There are a number of reasons why Fenrir would wish us dead; the most obvious of which being the fame of such an act."

I considered that, and was about to say something when he held up a finger, stopping me, and added, "But Fenrir was never one to do anything for fame." His eyes kept gleaming thoughtfully. His whole brain was working on the same thought, trying to figure it out. "The next alternative is that he is not doing so under his own power." His eyes darted to Bones and back. "But the existence of his subordinate would indicate that this is not the case."

"Small words, honey," I said, even though I understood him perfectly well. I just knew it helped him to explain things to me like he would to a child; it got him thinking about things in a different way, made him consider everything a little more carefully.

He nodded once, pretending for just a second that he believed I really needed him to translate, and replied, "Bones, based on all appearances, serves Fenrir, and Fenrir alone. Which would suggest that she was not sent to guard him, or to make sure that he carried through with our murder. She is assisting him; not the other way around."

I nodded back. "Makes sense," I agreed. Then, momentarily abandoning the pretext of being an idiot human who couldn't think for herself, I asked, "So if he's not working for some other authority, and he's not doing it for fame… then perhaps there is some _other_ vendetta he holds against you?"

He frowned, but I could tell that he was seriously considering it. "I hate to admit it," he said slowly, "But that may be the case." And, at last, he sighed- that irritable little sigh- and looked away, glaring at the ground. "But I cannot for the _life_ of me imagine what it is."

I thought it over. It was true; as far as Loki's memory was concerned, he and Fenrir had always been on reasonably good terms. Of course, there were the usual fights that all friends had- and, as they were both of the male persuasion, those fights _had_ occasionally come to blows- but there was never anything _serious._ Nothing to warrant an attempt on Loki's life.

I gnawed on my lower lip. "Well, not to make everything about me," I spoke up after a moment, "But… what if it's not about you? What if he's trying to kill… _me?"_ I shrugged. "I'm a human, after all. And there are countless people who think that I shouldn't be on the throne; and if I become immortal, then I'll be there for _good."_

Already, Loki was blowing me off. "No. Fenrir has never had a problem with interplanetary marriage. Never. After all, his lover _was_ an Asgardian, if you recall."

" _Was,"_ I agreed. "And what happened to her, Loki?"

He fell silent.

"Do you know," he said after a long few moments, "I'm not entirely certain."

I nodded sagely. "Just something to think about." He nodded as well, and I sensed that the conversation was closed. I glanced back to our fellow travelers, then gestured towards Bones. "See if you can get anything out of her. I'm heading down to the river."

He acknowledged me silently in our minds- not needing any proper 'words', even silent ones- and the two of us went off in our opposite directions.

I asked Katy where the River was- Puck had faded into the trees a while ago- and she pointed me in the direction. I headed off, listening closely until I heard the sound of water rushing past rocks, a strong and steady current. I made my way towards it, taking a deep breath, trying to take the morning in. My head was still a little fuzzy, but somehow, I still found myself enjoying the sights and sounds of this planet. The trees were thick and dense, each alive with their own smell of sap and leaves, some smelling like pine and others like mint and still others like no scent I had a name for. The grass squished underfoot, and there were like, no bugs. Seriously, it was awesome, because I hate bugs. And spiders.

Especially spiders.

In fact, whenever there was a spider back at the Tower, I'd usually pull Loki in to deal with it. I hadn't even really realized how often I did that until Natasha pointed it out to me. She also made an interesting observation; something about how I was so invulnerable on the battle field that maybe I worried that Loki felt he wasn't needed… and that _this_ was my way of letting him know that he still was. Because I never asked any of the other Avengers to deal with spiders when Loki wasn't around; I just took care of it myself.

Even after all these years, living with spies was strange. They examined me just as badly as I examined everyone else; worse, even.

Man, I missed those jerks.

I pushed them out of my head, trying to bring myself back to the moment. I had almost succeeded when I caught sight of him.

I stopped, dead in my tracks. The man by the river sighed, the back of his black-haired head turned to me. His skin was semi-tan but mostly pale, his clothes-which consisted pretty much only of a pair of dark pants and nothing else- were somewhat baggy on his thin, lean frame, but he held them in place with one hand. For a moment- just a moment- my already nostalgic mind flashed back to Bruce, holding himself together (and holding his pants up) after the Other Guy had gone out for a stroll.

But then that vanished, and my eyes narrowed. Swiftly, I unsheathed my knife, knowing it was nothing like my most dangerous weapon but also knowing that showing it off could help other people know that you mean business. Especially since they usually couldn't see my force field.

I was about to call out to him- order him to identify himself- when he sighed in a voice I recognized: "Well?" I saw him checking out his reflection in the river- with that current, it couldn't have been the clearest of pictures- as he muttered, "What if this was me?"

"Puck?"

I said his name out loud without really thinking about it, but when he heard it, he just about jumped out of his skin. Whirling around on me, his eyes going wide with horror, he stepped back, into the water, soaking his pants- which were far too big for his human frame and now came all the way down to his ankles. The second I caught sight of his face, however, I was certain; it was most definitely him. His face, despite the difference in skin and eye color, was identical to how it had been before. I stared at him: he was actually _physically_ shorter than he had been- still tall for a human, but definitely short _er_ \- and his eyes… his eyes were just the brightest freaking jade green that I'd seen since Loki's.

"Your majesty!" He exclaimed; and I no longer had to try and squint through the blue skin to tell that he was blushing; his pale face now made it show up as plain as day. He turned away, turning his back on me, but not thinking it through enough, so that he ended up putting his other foot in the water and full-on standing in the river. "I…" he cleared his throat. "I didn't… really want you to see that." He laughed awkwardly.

"No, it's good," I said, grinning at him even though his back was turned. "You should get in touch with your human side more often."

He chuckled once, still a little nervous, but turned back slowly, peering at me from underneath his eyebrows. He hid it well, but I still noticed, after a few seconds, that the boy was _assessing_ me. Like this was some awful thing, and he wanted to make sure that I didn't know just how awful it really was. At last, however, he turned back to me, full-on, and rubbed the back of his neck.

I tilted my head to the side. Despite knowing what I did about the way he was looking at me, I also saw something else in his eyes; a strange sadness, one I'd seen a few times before. The lovesick look of a person who's got a crush; and got one _bad_. I smirked. "Thinking about the human girl you left behind, huh?" I asked. "The redhead?"

The blush got brighter, but he stiffened, straightened, and said with a clear, resonating authority, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, m'lady."

"Sure," I purred in return, turning away from him. "I know you miss her, Puck, but think of it this way: we get through this, you can go back and tell her how you feel."

I had already walked a few steps away when I heard his voice again. It was quieter now. Less jovial, and far less embarrassed, his tone solemn. "No, I can't."

I turned back to him. He shrugged, turning away, threading a belt through his pants so that he no longer had to hold them up. "She's a human, m'lady. And I'm not. And frankly, I'm not sure my parents will approve."

My eyebrows shot up. "They can hardly _dis_ approve. They did the same thing, after all-"

"And it killed them."

I blinked, surprised by the sincerity and the honest-to-goodness _pain_ in that boy's voice. His vivid green eyes locked on mine, so large and sad. Always so sad. "It killed them, m'lady," he repeated quietly. "It _destroyed_ them, to know that they would have to live without each other. It's destroying _you._ " He shook his head. "I haven't lived long enough to know for certain if I am mortal or immortal… but I know one thing for certain: if I _was_ immortal… I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk destroying myself." He looked down now, avoiding my eyes. "Truthfully, I couldn't risk destroying _her._ "

And then his eyes were back on me. "And my parents are much in the same. They know I care about mortals, even that I am friends with some of them… but they cannot allow me to love one. I know they cannot. And I dare not ask them."

Sympathy lanced through me. Sighing softly, I gestured for him to come closer, "C'mere, kiddo," and he did so, until he was within arm's reach. I pulled him into a hug- he was taller than me, but I made him lean over so that I could hug him anyway- and sighed again.

"Look," I said, very quietly, releasing him so that I could hold him by the shoulders at arm's length. "I get it. And… if I were your mom, I wouldn't want you going through any of this, either. But if your parents care about you- really _care-_ then they'll let you make your own mistakes; because sometimes… sometimes adults are stupid, Puck. And the things that might have been a mistake for them… may be the smartest decision of your life. And sure, you may go through pain… but everyone goes through pain. And it's your pain to go through, should you decide to embrace it." I smiled ruefully at him. "You're a good kid, Puck. A _smart_ kid. And I might not know your parents, but I know _you._ And anyone with eyes in their heads- _including_ your 'rents- can see that you're smart enough to make your own decisions."

"Tuh!"

I turned, startled, to the sound of the small, exasperated noise. Reggie, leaning against a tree, her hair dripping wet as she dried it off with a towel, rolled her red eyes. "Of course he is," She said snidely. "He has to make _all_ of the decisions." Her eyes flashed- I saw something in them, then, something that frightened me, something filled with blood and hate- and she added, "He makes all of the decisions for _everyone._ "

She turned around to stalk away when Puck snapped, "Reggie!" in his best older-brother tone. But it only made her stop for a few seconds. And she didn't turn around.

She carried on without another word to us. Puck sighed heavily. "I'm sorry about her," he apologized in a quiet voice. "She's been… it's a long-running fight. Nothing that she should be bringing you in on."

But I was frowning, watching the retreating half-breed. "What did she mean?" I asked. He just sighed.

"I wish I knew, m'lady," he said with a strangely old grief. "I truly wish I knew."

* * *

I found an abandoned area of the river, surrounded on all sides by trees, and bathed quickly. Still, it couldn't be rushed. The water wasn't freezing, but it _was_ refreshingly cold, and it felt good. I'd stopped taking baths for granted a long time ago, and even a bath in a river was no exception. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of that first shower after those four months, in which I'd discovered just how truly great a shower was… but, surprisingly, the thought did not inspire much anxiety in me. I hoped that meant that today was going to be one of the good days.

But, somehow, I ended up wondering: what if it wasn't? I felt like I _knew_ something now, something I didn't before… something about whose fault it _really_ was, that Fraye was still in my head. And it wasn't hers- she was dead, it couldn't be her fault- or really anyone else's.

It was no one's fault but my own. I'd decided not to let her go, and so she stayed.

Brushing the thoughts out of my head, I toweled off (We'd brought along a towel and some soap. We weren't idiots) and changed into a fresh pair of traveling clothes: sturdy brown pants, a tan, light tank top, and a cloak over that, which I could take off if it got too warm. All tied together with my usual walking boots, my belt with my knife, and my usual ponytail, bound with its leather band.

Simple and practical. I could practically hear Tiff in my head, complaining about how it wasn't dramatic enough. She might've been a spy, but every spy knew that many a good cover was based off of the things that got you _noticed,_ rather than the things that didn't. And, when she was pretending to be a norm, she'd always had a flare for the dramatic, anyway.

I smiled to myself. I really _did_ miss my human friends.

I headed back to the campsite; and what greeted me when I arrived had me stifling laughter so much that, for a good minute, I couldn't even speak. Which was good, because that was precisely what Loki ordered.

 _"Not. One. Word."_ The Trickster's eyes were brimming with artic flame. His teeth were clenched; he could hear them grinding together. Puck and Reggie were both smothering giggles, and even Bones- our ever silent, ever stoic prisoner, was turned away, with a smirk on her face that she couldn't quite suppress.

I nodded at him, swallowing my laughter and almost choking on it. "Wh-What happened here?" I asked in a voice that was shaky with my own stifled snickers, even though it was quite obvious what had happened.

Reggie- her own voice quivering a little, her earlier hostility forgotten- smiled and said, "Katy got bored."

Katydid, standing on a mound of Jotun-made snow so that she was roughly the same height as Loki, who was sitting down, nodded primly and carried on braiding the Norse god of Mischief's hair. It was adorable, hilarious, and surreal, all at the same time. Her red eyes were very serious as she looked to me and said, "He needed a makeover."

I was dangerously close to laughter; and Puck accidentally let a snicker get loose. Loki gave him the death stare to end all death stares, and he averted his gaze swiftly, pinching his lips together so as to not let out another traitorous sound of mirth. But it was hard _not_ to laugh, really; between the flowers that she'd somehow expertly woven into his black locks, the braids that littered his head with utter abandon- otherwise known as the creative genius that was unique to three-year-old's- and the friggin' Chitauri death spear that lay not two feet away from him, the whole picture was really a rather amusing sight.

"Couldn't you give Reggie a makeover instead?" I asked of the little girl. "I'm sure it'd be more fun."

She shook her head. "Reggie's got no hair. It's boring."

Reggie shrugged a nonchalant shrug, palms up, holding her shoulders up for a long moment. "What can I say?" she asked, then ran her fingers through the short brown strands on her head. "Anything longer gets in the way."

I nodded slowly, acting like it was a genuine problem, since Katydid's eyes were on me at the moment. "Yes, yes, I see…" I said, nodding. Then, looking to Loki, I said, "Sorry, darling, but I'm afraid that's what you get for having freakishly girly hair. Seriously, no guy should have hair that thick. Even _I'm_ jealous."

Loki, though he was a silver tongue, had gotten very good over the years at expressing his _true_ words, emotions, and sentiments through his eyes. And I, over the years, had gotten very good at reading them. And the look he shot me now said, in no uncertain terms: _Just because you are my wife does not mean that I am above murdering you in your sleep._

Puck and Reggie, however, could no longer contain it. They burst into laughter while Bones let out a soft, nigh imperceptible snicker. Katydid seemed both confused and surprisingly undaunted by everyone else's humor. She carried on braiding his hair like nothing else was going on around her, sliding a small flower that looked like a pink daisy behind his ear.

We ended up having to stay an extra half hour, so that Katy could finish her masterpiece. No one but Loki minded, though. And, eventually, he went to the river, silently grateful for his good fortune, that he could remove the monstrosity in his hair immediately. That was shattered when Katy said, "Don' wash it out, okays? Is just perfect now."

He fumed, eyes crackling, and whirled on the little girl to tell her his definition of _'perfect',_ but just as he opened his mouth, I jammed mine on it.

When we separated, I took his collar, looked up into his green eyes, and pleaded, " _Please?_ It means so much to her."

His teeth gritted together again. Reggie was doubled over laughing again, but she had the common sense to keep it silent, pinning her lips together as her shoulders shook and a single tear formed in the corner of her eye. Loki made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl and stalked off, completely unhappy, but silently compliant.

I sat down so that Katy could do my hair next; she cracked her tiny knuckles and played around for another fifteen minutes until Loki returned, grumbling under his breath but still wearing the braids and flowers that Katy had deigned to put on his head.

As we walked off, he didn't even seem to notice that I'd gotten the same treatment. In fact, he had to steam for a good half-hour before he could even _listen_ to me, let alone answer me. Still, I tried. "I'm surprised she got you to agree."

He made another little growling noise in the back of his throat. I grinned. "What did she even say?"

His hands clenched. But he allowed me access into his memory, so that I could see Katy's face as she had pleaded, those red eyes of hers so big and trusting. _"Please, please, please?"_ She'd begged.

And, when that had failed miserably, the three half-breeds joined forces, gave him the puppy-dog eyes- which they were all amazingly good at- and begged at the same time, in a weird harmony, " _Please, please, please, please, pleeeeease?"_

"I was outnumbered," Loki said glumly. Bones, a few feet back, chuckled again, and Loki stared some more daggers in her direction.

"These half-breeds," he carried on through his teeth, "Shall be the death of me, Frost."

"Oh, I dunno," I teased. "I think you look like a beautiful princess."

His lip curled. I laughed quietly, slipping my arm in his. "On a more serious note," I said, delicately moving away from the mockery, knowing that if I kept pushing it someone really would end up hurt. "Have I ever mentioned that I love guys who are good with kids?"

"Hmph," was his noncommittal, non-caring response.

I came within inches of adding that he would make a wonderful dad… but then I remembered that it probably wouldn't be the greatest of ideas. The 'kids' fight was among our biggest at the moment; no need to inflame things. I kept my arm in his, though my eyes kept flitting back to Bones. Her silver eyes were lingering on the three half-breeds in an oddly melancholy way.

"If Fenrir sees this," Loki grumbled, "He will not have to try and kill us."

I couldn't help but grin. "Why? 'Cause you'll die of embarrassment?"

He rolled his eyes. "He'll only have to relay what he saw and make us the laughingstock of the universe."

"Then it's a good thing that we don't care about the universe's opinion, isn't it?" I purred. He glared at me, like he hated me for having answers to every one of his broodings, but I carried on anyway. "And besides that, most great warriors and geniuses are all a little eccentric. The universe should have learned that by now."

"Hmph," he grumbled again.

I kept grinning, trying to tone it down to salvage his pride, but eventually giving up because it only got worse every time I caught sight of him and the flowers in his hair. I hated to even think it, given how anti-kid he was, but he really and truly _would_ be a good father; better than anyone else would have expected. He might've been a murderous psychopath once, but now his pride was out of the way. Those battles had been won. And yeah, he had some twinges of sociopathy here and there, but no one's perfect; and we'd have the Avengers around to help out…

For a moment, despite how desperately I tried not to, I found myself lost in that fantasy: Loki and I, with a little boy or girl, the prince or princess of Jotunheim, who we'd make the Avengers babysit every so often. A little child who laughed and giggled and acted just like…

 _Just like Fraye had._

I didn't want the image in my brain, but it invariably took over the happier fantasy; gooing up the joy with black tar. A little girl, getting Clint to show her archery, listening to Bruce talk science, with an adorable little laugh that made Tony joke all the time just so that he could hear it again…

Only this time, things would be different. This time, the child would be ours. This time, that kid would be a part of the weird, crazy family that so often frequented Stark Tower.

 _Ours,_ I growled at Fraye in my head, mentally pulling the happy fantasy back, yanking it out of her hands.

I glanced over to Loki out of the corner of my eye; he wasn't paying attention to my thoughts, listening only to his own. But seeing him with Katydid… he'd stuffed his pride aside for the sake of one little girl that he barely even knew. He wouldn't do that for most people.

How could he _possibly_ say that he didn't want kids? That it would be _better_ if we never had them? That it was the 'right thing to do'?

I found myself falling back a little. Loki carried on, lost in his own thoughts, and I lingered, watching as everyone moved ahead: the three half-breeds and my husband, watching them all from behind and wondering who here really was having the hard time moving forwards…

Because, really, how could I even _think_ about having kids? I could barely take care of myself…

I didn't realize how far I'd fallen behind until I saw the back of Bones' white head. She was still staring at the three half-breeds. I paused for a second, then decided to roll with a hunch; carefully, I stepped forward, until the two of us were side by side.

"They're good kids."

She looked to me, silver-black eyes widening a little in surprise. And then she looked away, back to the three children. A little sigh puffed out of her nose, but she said nothing. In her human form, standing next to me, she seemed so much less imposing than she had when I'd first seen her. She was smaller and skinnier than even I was; which was clearly unhealthy.

"Look," I told her. "You don't have to say anything about Fenrir, or his plans, or his reasoning. I just want to know why." As she looked at me again, I added, "Why you always look at Puck like that. If you two have ever met before; and why he acts like he knows you."

She looked to me for a long moment, assessing me. And then she looked down. Carefully, she held up a hand- small but slender, the nails bitten down to the quick- and showed it to me. Her fingers were so pale.

And they were trembling.

It wasn't a barely-noticeable quiver, a slight shiver. Her fingers were shaking uncontrollably, vibrating at a quick pace. Not blurring, not like Puck had been that one time so long ago, but still trembling all the same. And then she pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest, like she wasn't certain why she'd shown me that.

I tried to think about what that meant. And for a long time, I couldn't understand it; I searched my brain and Loki's, examining our memories, trying to remember what I knew about Wyr Wolves…

And then it clicked: the involuntary change. Wyrs would frequently change forms, lose themselves, just like the tales of werewolves would always let you believe. It was why most of them weren't rouges like Fenrir; they _had_ to be around other Wolves, others who would help dull the pain, and who would keep them in check. A pack survived by that notion. Fenrir managed by using the magic of other species; and Loki had been placed in the position of having to assist Fenrir many a time. He'd even botched it up once, and accidentally let Fenrir run wild in the palace. The two laughed about it later, but at the time, Odin was seriously pissed.

And now, without Fenrir there to help… Bones had to be turning to someone… And clearly, Puck had assumed the role.

"He's wrong."

It was the first time I'd ever heard Bones' voice. It wouldn't be the last. It was a very pretty voice, made rough and harsh by disuse, but it sounded like a she-wolf's voice should; slightly musical, as though she were always howling quietly, yet soft and understated. I blinked, staring at her, and her black eyes, with their singular ring of silver, turned up to the skies.

"He's wrong about me," she said, so quietly. "I won't help him. I won't help you. And if I cannot help Fenrir, then there is no point to my existence." She turned to me, now, looking me in the eye in a strange, unwavering way, courageous yet frightened. "Keeping me here does nothing for you. It would be best for us all if you killed me."

She said it in a very matter-of-fact way- startlingly so- and for a moment, I found myself without a response. The girl's intense stare stole my words away from me. How to reason with a person who wants to die? I'd tried it before. In the end, though, she'd just gotten what she wanted.

But in that second, I saw it. I saw what Puck saw; this girl was different. She had _potential_. And whether or not she wanted to die, there was still a life ahead of her. A life that could be good.

And I found myself wondering what had made her life bad to begin with; and how I could fix it.

And inside of my chest, a warm spark started growing warmer. A light began to breathe back into life, a fire rekindled.

 _I_ _ **will**_ _help you. And there's nothing you can_ _ **do**_ _about it._

"Really," I said brightly. It wasn't a question. "Well, that's a shame, because I have no intention of killing you. I mean, yeah, I could, but I really don't wanna. You seem like an okay person." I nudged her with my shoulder. She stared at me like I'd just told her that turtles could fly. I looked forward. "That said, is your name really Bones? I mean, I know Puck said it was, but you never said anything to contradict that, and I wondered if it was true."

She kept staring at me for a good half minute. I said nothing, and intended to say nothing, until I got a response; and, at last, she nodded.

"Aye," she said, her raspy voice cracking just a little.

"Interesting name," I said slowly. "Any reason behind it?"

She shook her head, not taking her eyes off of me once, like she suspected a trap. Or maybe she thought she was already in the trap, and was trying to find a way out of it.

"Well, it's nice to properly meet you at last, Bones," I said, turning around so that I was walking backwards, but facing her. "I'm Natalie Laufeyson."

Her eyes narrowed, like she wanted to say _I know, you're my target,_ but she didn't. In fact, she just turned away, glared at the ground. "It's pointless," she promised. "I will not be swayed. Loyalty before life."

"Good for you," I said, nodding. "Glad you believe in something. But I didn't try to 'sway' you. I just introduced myself."

She glared, pinned her lips together, and started moving faster. I stopped walking backwards and tried to walk side by side with her instead. I could see Puck out of the corner of my eye, smiling a little as he glanced towards us. I was opening my mouth to say something else- frankly, I wasn't even sure what- when Katydid, who'd somehow found herself leading our little group, stopped abruptly.

Reggie hissed through her teeth, and Puck whirled, pulling out his bow and arming it within the span of a heartbeat. Reggie's staff expanded, and Katy pulled out her sword. Loki and I were a little slower, but within a few seconds, he had his spear, and I had my shield.

"Kat?" Puck asked the little girl through his teeth. She didn't respond, but it didn't seem that she needed to. The two shared a single look before Puck nodded and Reggie cursed, whirling around to cover our blind spot, grumbling something in discontented-sounding German.

Puck barked out something to Bones in the language of the Wyrs; and I caught none of it. Loki only knew smatters of Fenrir's home language; he'd never had reason to learn it all. Ergo, I didn't know, either. Bones seemed to stiffen and, reluctantly, she began to shift forms. Loki stiffened, but one look from Puck suggested that we were going to need everyone on their game right now.

Loki and I brushed our minds together, ready to converge at a second's notice. It was our natural state, our best way of fighting. We pressed ourselves back to back as Puck ordered, "Protect the Shadowslayers at all costs!"

Reggie rolled her eyes. Bones, her transformation complete, gave Puck a dangerous look; and he amended his statement with another few Wyr words. I swallowed, though Loki seemed to think nothing of it. These kids were putting their lives on the line for us. Maybe _he_ was used to having strangers protect him- that sort of thing happened a lot in a prince's life- but I was used to fighting my _own_ battles. Sure, I had teammates… but this was different.

Or was it? Katy retreated to my side, positioning herself beside Loki and I, covering our weaknesses well. Like she knew how we fought and was used to fighting that way herself. Or maybe it was like we were defending her as well; with her so close to us, she was bound to be safer than it had been while she was up front.

I blinked, refocusing myself. I had to stay in the present. I searched the trees, trying to find our newfound enemy… but I could see nothing. Katy was trembling, muttering something in a constant stream under her breath that sounded like reassurances; and in Spanish, no less. How many languages did these freaking kids know?

 _Stay on task, Natalie,_ I ordered myself; and a few seconds later, Loki ordered the same. We scanned the trees, trying to see something, some flaw, some movement, _anything_ that would tell us where the enemy was…

Suddenly, Reggie called, "Three o'clock!" And charged in that direction, throwing herself at a fuzzy shape in the distance. It took me only a few seconds to recognize what it was; and my head went tipsy for a moment. It was one of those telekinetic imposters that had attacked us just the other day. Only it wasn't really just _one_ of them.

More like twelve.

 _Shit. Shitshitshit._

I braced myself, my mind flooding into Loki's, his mind flooding into mine, our thoughts converging and grabbing hold of each other, until we were one mind and one alone. We raced forward, moving in unison and tandem, charging ahead with Reggie and Puck. Katy stayed behind with Bones; the white wolf snarled viciously at the attackers, partially wrapping herself around the little girl, forcing Katy behind her. Protecting her for reasons unknown.

The creatures moved swiftly, on all sides of us. I heard trees ripping themselves up by their roots, and rocks started to fly at us from all directions. Reggie started to hover in the air, held up by one of them; and she struggled and squirmed, spouting off curses and death threats that would make an old soldier blush.

"I WILL DANCE ON YOUR GRAAAAVES!" She crowed. Puck seemed to think that this was not helping as he fired an arrow through the trees. Loki and I arrived just around that moment; and he stabbed at one of the things. It dodged in time to get away with nothing more than a simple cut. I shot out points from my force field, razor-sharp and scattered with edges. But it wasn't really _him_ and _I._ It was _us._ Natalie's and Loki's body.

Still surreal, even after all this time.

Another of Puck's arrows found their mark, and Reggie dropped to the ground as the thing that held her collapsed. The creatures scattered themselves about among the trees, hunting us in a pack, circling round and round and using deception as their ally. We could hear whispers and cackles that were almost like laughter in the most bone-chilling way, and we forced ourselves to ignore it, to focus. We were on the battlefield now, and we were lethal killing machines. A singular lethal killing machine, even.

Reggie threw herself back into the fray just as Puck was tackled from the side. He tumbled to the ground, a creature atop him, snapping large teeth and trying to impale him with its claws. White, opaque eyes glared at him in hate, and he struggled beneath it. We wanted to help him, but we were both occupied; the creature that Loki was grappling with had yanked his spear out of his hands without ever touching it, and the creature that Natalie was fighting had thrown her backwards and into a tree. The blow didn't actually _hurt,_ but it had rattled her around enough that we were both momentarily dizzy.

In the distance, Bones leapt atop of one of the creatures just as Puck drove a knife through the one on top of him. Bones' sharp teeth dug into the thing's shoulder, and she pulled up, letting it bleed white onto the ground, a fatal blow. Katy, on the other hand, was swinging her sword in a way that wasn't actually as wild as you'd expect from a little kid; but as one of the creatures came her way, it was the strangest thing… we only caught sight of it from the corners of Natalie's eyes, but we certainly saw it: as the creature charged toward her, mouth wide open, teeth gleaming, and claws held up high to rain down terrible pain upon her, Katy held up a hand. She whispered something- soft, unintelligible, her mouth barely moving- and the creature stopped dead in its tracks. For a second, her red eyes were filled with something terrible… and the creature stumbled forwards, tore the sword from the little girl's grasp, and plunged it through its own chest.

Katy swayed as she removed the sword, collapsing on the ground and breathing heavily. Immediately, we ran towards her; or rather, sent Natalie's body running towards her. Loki was still trying to remove his spear from the creature's grasp; he drove his hand into the ground, spreading ice across it, shafts of the stuff driving upwards and through the creature's body. He plucked the spear from its dead fingers and fired a blast of energy towards another creature just as Natalie was attacked from the side.

Puck pulled the creature off of her, stabbing it three times in the ribs before throwing it aside. Reggie, whooping and laughing like a maniac, went past them from atop the shoulders of yet another of the things, crying, "Giddy-up!" as she went. She did an odd flip that would've impressed the Black Widow, her legs locking around its neck as she threw herself to the ground, breaking the thing's neck as she fell.

"This is awesome!" She cheered as Puck, scowling, pulled her back to her feet. Natalie tried to head back towards Katy, but it seemed that she didn't need any help; Bones was nosing her gently, and she nodded; the Wyr Wolf barely saw the gesture before she launched at another creature, taking its head in her jaws. We flinched, turning Natalie's head away before the inevitable happened. We were used to blood and death and horror, but that didn't mean we liked watching it, or that we _would_ watch it callously if we didn't _have_ to.

Puck shouted, "Behind you!" And Natalie whirled, flaring her shield outward, wincing as we realized just how close Puck was, realizing that he would inevitably get caught up in it… and as the shield- covered in painful spikes- stabbed through the creature ahead… our eyes went wide. Puck remained where he was, fighting effortlessly.

We swallowed, but pushed it aside.

For now.

Loki finished off the creature in his own grasp and, for a long moment, everyone looked around. It seemed that all of the things were dead or dying; we walked to each other again, pressed our backs together, looked around. The others seemed to be doing the same, until Reggie looked to Katydid.

"Kit-Kat?"

The littlest half-breed closed her eyes and seemed to listen for a long moment. Then, at last, she shook her head. "Clear," She said, sounding slightly breathless. Loki and I split apart, wincing a little as we did so, falling back into our normal bodies and minds and heads. I could still taste a few of his memories on my tongue, see a few of his emotions behind my eyelids, but after I blinked for a few seconds, it was gone.

We cleared our heads, walking towards the others in silence. There was something else to be done. A grim task that we hadn't been aware was necessary until now…

We walked towards the half-breeds, and the Wyr Wolf. Loki kept a watchful eye on her as we strode forwards. I didn't release my shield. Loki didn't lower his spear.

"Everyone all right?" Puck was asking. Katydid nodded wearily and Reggie grinned like a loon, stretching out her arms and leaning over to stretch her legs out a bit, too. She was bleeding red from a few scratches, but her eyes were gleaming wildly.

"Better than all right," she said contentedly. "I haven't been in a fight that fun in _ages._ That was the _best."_

"Then this'll be even better," I found myself saying; just as Loki turned his spear to the side-holding it out horizontally- and rammed it into Puck, charging him into the nearest tree. The spear cut in a bar across his throat, and he struggled while Reggie shouted, "Hey!" and jumped to her feet. Katydid let out a short shriek as I shoved Reggie forward. As suspected; my shield passed right through her. I was forced to hold her against another tree with nothing but my bare two hands; at least until I pulled out my knife and pressed it to her throat.

"Don't even _think_ about moving," I barked at her, then turned a dark eye to Bones and added, "Same to you."

She seemed to get the message, remaining frozen in place.

"The _hell,_ Natalie?!" Reggie demanded. "What's gotten _into_ you?"

"Shut up!" I shouted at her. Looking to Katydid, I saw fear on her face. Her lower lip quivered, and I felt guilt wash through me. How could I do this? How could I hurt them- _any_ of them? I loathed myself for it, but I had to push that feeling aside if I wanted to live. And believe me, _I wanted to live._

Still, when I spoke to Katydid, I did so with a gentler tone. "Katy, come here for a second."

She shivered violently, shaking her head slowly, looking away like she was trying to asses her options for retreat. "Katydid," Loki said, in a slightly more authoritative voice; and though she flinched, she did as I asked. Once she was within a few feet of me, I nodded to her, letting her know it was okay for her to stop. She did so, and I stretched my shield out, into her direction, slowly reaching out with my force field.

She passed right through it.

At that second- even though the field was mostly invisible- Reggie seemed to understand what was going on. "Oh." She said. "Crap." And, abruptly, my shield repelled away from her, forcing me back a little and pushing her out of my bubble. She laughed a little, nervously. "Oops?"

I felt myself shiver, though I tried to repress it. My shield had stabbed through her once before. She'd been trying to hide this fact from us for a long time; purposely, actively _trying._ Which meant that she had been purposely and actively _lying_ to us. They _all_ had.

Puck swallowed- a difficult thing with Loki's spear against his throat- and looked down. Clearly, he understood what was happening now, too. Loki turned ice-green eyes to him, his gaze screaming of a terrible chaos.

"I shall ask this only once more." He promised. "And if you do not answer sufficiently, I shall kill you." Even I wasn't sure if he was lying or not; because, quite frankly, _he_ didn't know. "So consider your answer well, half-breed."

Puck didn't look back up as Loki demanded, " _What are you?"_

Puck didn't respond. Neither did Reggie. And Katydid just trembled.

It was a long and tense few seconds of silence. Fear was shooting through me; this _couldn't be._ There _couldn't be_ anything in this universe that could get through my shield. And if there was, it certainly wouldn't be a _half-breed;_ nothing from Jotunheim or Midgard or even a combination of the two. No one really knew how these nanos worked, not completely; and while the process _could_ have been duplicated… how? And why? Just to fight _me?_ And if so, _when_ had they had the _time_ to figure it all out…?

"It's not what you think," Reggie said at last; and while I was the one who was holding her in place, it was _Loki_ that she pleaded to. "Honestly."

"And what is that, Reggie?" Loki asked in a deathly quiet voice. "Tell me, precisely, _what I think._ "

She swallowed, too, looking a little sick. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, she blurted everything out: "We're not your enemy, okay? We're just… we're different. We messed around with a power beyond our control, and it made us-"

" _That,"_ Loki cut her off, and she flinched like she'd been struck. "Is a _lie._ "

"Puck…" Katydid said slowly, her voice trembling.

"It's okay, Kit-Kat," he promised. "It's okay-"

"Don't lie to your sister, Puck," Loki said in a venomous voice. Even I winced a little. "Tell us what you are, and _perhaps_ we shall release you."

Puck and Reggie shared a look- it was very much a sibling look, like, _okay-we're-in-trouble-so-how-do-we-get-out-of-this-do-you-have-any-ideas?_ Big bro and little sis had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar and were both looking for good excuses. But I also caught the look they shot to Katydid, like, _don't-snitch-on-us-all-right-we'll-do-your-chores-for-like-a-month-just-keep-your-mouth-shut-right-now._ She seemed too terrified to say _anything,_ but they didn't seem very reassured of this fact. There was another long and tense silence. Even Bones was sitting still, hackles up. Her silver-black eyes were on Puck, and she had subtly positioned herself so that she was very close to Katydid. I wasn't sure why she'd grown to care about these kids so much, but a small part of me was glad that she had. I wanted to protect them, even now, and some part of me was glad that someone else was up to the task. Even if it was someone I didn't trust; because, really, who _did_ I trust right now?

"Look," Puck said at last; and, like Reggie had pleaded to Loki, he now pleaded to me. "Natalie… I know you don't trust us. And we've hardly given you a reason to, but… You saw what I was." His eyes were pleading, desperate. "You saw what I can do." He held up a hand, closed his eyes… and after a second, it began to tremble, vibrating into a blur. I swallowed hard as the trembling died down, faded away. The circles of devastation. The feeling of _wrongness_ that had emanated from him; that _always_ emanated from him. These memories came back to me in an instant. "We're not… we're not what you think we are, and, frankly, we can't _tell_ you _what_ we really are. And… that's part of what this is, all right?"

"That's not _good_ enough," Loki growled, but I cut him off.

"Loki," I chastised quietly. He glanced to me before narrowing his eyes on the half-breed boy again. "Go on, Puck," I prodded quietly.

He tried to nod, but the spear still barred his throat, so he didn't. "All I can say is that… we're your guides. It is our duty to lead you to the Faden safely, and that's precisely what we'll do. You just… have to trust us."

"And why would we do that?" Loki demanded; and this time, Reggie answered.

"Because you don't have another choice," she replied. As he turned a burning gaze to her, she carried on, "You both came here on the premise that you would return with Natalie as an immortal, or you wouldn't return at all. We're your best hope for that goal. And if it means that you don't return, then that's what it means. You made that decision. You have to stick with it."

I worried, for only a second, that these words would provoke Loki into a worse type of anger, that he would just drive his spear into Puck's stomach and be done with it… until I realized that Reggie had just issued a challenge; and, better yet, it was a challenge that Loki had already issued himself. He could hardly back down.

The argument was already won. It terrified me, but I recognized it; there truly _wasn't_ anything we could do to hurt them. Even if my immortality wasn't on the line, I knew that I could no more raise my hand to kill these kids than I could raise it to kill Loki. Of course there was the usual exception; but even if these kids were a threat to _my_ life, they were threatening no one else currently. Which meant that, for now, they were safe from us; from the Avenging side of ourselves.

Slowly, I released Reggie. She rubbed her throat but seemed to think very little of the fact that she'd just been held at knifepoint. Loki was more hesitant to release Puck, but after I gave him a long, hard look, he finally consented.

He didn't say anything else. Neither did I. Puck headed over to Katy immediately, picking her up and whispering reassurances, false promises of, "It's okay, we're fine, we're gonna be fine," while tiny tears tracked down her face. As the Trickster turned and walked away, he didn't notice the rather murderous glare that Puck gave him, furious that someone had made his sister cry. I, on the other hand, did.

I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't. Instead, I followed after Loki.

* * *

That night, we all camped together in a rather odd position; the half-breeds were closer together, and farther away from us. Reggie seemed to think this was a stupid precaution, but Puck and Loki kept staring daggers at each other, so I was pretty sure that it wasn't.

Katy was the first to pass out. We'd set up camp fairly early, wanting to treat our wounds and whatnot. Puck helped clean and bandage Bones' injuries while Reggie treated the not-quite-conscious Katydid, who sank into true sleep only seconds after Reggie had finished. I only had a few scratches, but Loki took a look at each and every one of them, insisting that they could get infected or whatnot, which made me roll my eyes.

"Stop being such a mother hen and let me take a look at you," I finally ordered; to which he promptly shut up and obeyed. I checked his injuries carefully, but there was little of importance; though once I had him take his jacket, shirt, etc off so that I could see his back, I _did_ wince at the sight of his shadow scars. There was a brand-new cut across them, which he'd barely felt, the tissue there was so numb. He'd only really noticed a slight sting, and I'd seen the blood on his jacket, the tear in it.

I treated it quickly and carefully, having gotten surprisingly good at such things over the time I'd spent doing them. I used to treat his scars in the old days, when they were still healing, and after the Battle of Shadows, I spent more time in the Healing Rooms than out of them. I was starting to get a feel for the whole thing.

Once we had finished, he pulled his shirt back on and I ducked behind a tree to change into something suitable enough for sleepwear. When I returned to Loki, he was buried under a blanket, already fast asleep, and I smiled a little. For all that we said we didn't trust the half-breeds, on many levels, we really did. We just knew, intellectually, that we shouldn't; even when we wanted to.

But you don't just fall asleep around people you don't trust.

I curled up next to him, pressing my feet to his legs. He was cold, as usual; but, also as usual, he warmed up after a moment. I wrapped his arm around myself and curled up close next to him, closing my eyes and letting myself drift away.

It was only a few hours before he woke again, his heart beating somewhere in his throat, nightmares still lingering behind his eyelids as he tried to blink them away. He noted that I was still sleeping beside him, sighed in relief, and kissed the top of my head gently before removing himself from my grasp. He had to walk, to move, to do something. Just to get the dream out of his head.

He headed towards the magic-created light in the center of the camp. Sitting there, a singular shadow watched the starry night above. It was small enough that, for just a second, Loki's heart leapt again; but as he got closer, he saw eyes gleaming in the darkness; eyes that were not black, but red.

Slowly, he slid into a seat next to Katydid. She shied away from him a little, looking to him worriedly. It hurt, oddly enough, to see her look at him like that. Like he had done some terrible deed by making her fear him. He tried to smile benignly at her, but said nothing for a long moment, until she had looked away again.

At last, he told her, "I'm sorry about earlier. I did not mean to frighten you."

She looked to him again, studied his profile. Then, she leaned her elbow on her thigh, put her chin in her hand, mushing her lips against her palm. "S'ok." She said quietly.

They were quiet again. Loki found that he wasn't entirely certain of what to say and, after a few awkward moments, he said, "So… your siblings left you on guard?"

She shook her head. "Reggie fell asleep on her shift," she replied. "And I couldn't sleep. So I took over."

"That's very responsible of you."

She shrugged her small shoulders and said nothing.

Loki took a deep breath, looking forwards and letting it out through his nose. It came out in an oddly heavy sigh, and he leaned forwards much in the same way Katy was: elbow on thigh, chin in hand, eyes straight ahead and yet distant.

"Why didn't you tell us that you were an empath?"

The little girl stiffened- just briefly, but Loki caught it- before saying, in a rather steady and cool voice, "Why do you think I am?"

The little girl was a surprisingly good liar. Her words were calm, unshaking. The ease of her lie was completely at odds with her appearance, her age, and what little he knew of her personality. But, he supposed, all people are liars when necessity calls for it; and an empath would have more than enough cause to become a liar. "I saw you," he said, lying himself. It was not _his_ eyes that had seen her; but that was a minor technicality. "In the battle today. And… frankly, I've had my suspicions."

She looked down, red eyes flitting to the ground. Loki decided to carry on: "You fall asleep quickly, but you don't stay asleep. Nightmares, correct?" She nodded. "Empaths are prone to have them; and around Natalie and myself, it's hardly surprising to think that perhaps they've gotten worse. And you knew that those creatures were around long before anyone else sensed them. And when that one looked at you…" he looked to her, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

She sighed quietly, an old sigh on such a small child. But Loki was used to such ancient children; he'd known many in his life. Quietly, she finished the story for him: "I 'manipulated its emotions'." She said the words like she'd heard them a hundred times but barely knew what they meant, parroting them with some difficulty. "I made it see only bad stuff. I didn't think it'd kill itself, but… that happens sometimes, with lesser in-tel-li-gen-ces." She seemed to have trouble with that word, too, but she got it out. She pulled her knees up, folded her arms over them, buried her head in her arms.

"And your siblings know," he assumed.

"Mm-hmm," she agreed without looking up.

"And how long have _you_ known?"

"Forever. Didn't know _what_ it was for a while, but…" She sighed heavily. "People don't like knowing it about me. They like to keep their heads safe. Private. But it's not my fault."

"Of course it isn't," Loki replied, bristling just a little. "In fact, it's to be commended; Empaths are very rare creatures. Talent with any kind of empathy is a difficult skill to acquire; to be _born_ with such a natural gift…"

"S'not a gift," she grumbled, pulling herself into a tighter ball, curling in on herself. Loki fell silent, remembering yet again how young the girl was. And abruptly remembering what that meant.

"When you made that creature despair, enough that it _killed_ itself…" Loki swallowed, looking to her. "That means you know what that kind of despair is."

She didn't respond. Just curled up a little tighter, hiding her face in her knees.

"You've felt it before. For yourself, or from others."

"I didn't make it 'despair', okay?" she snapped, looking up to him abruptly. "I made it afraid."

He blinked, startled by the intensity, the ferocity in her eyes. "Afraid?" he asked tentatively, as she turned away, hair whipping across her shoulders. "You made it afraid?"

She didn't respond. Her eyes stayed away from him, her face hidden by her hair.

"So you've felt that kind of _fear…?"_ he prodded, feeling something twist inside of him. He knew fear- he'd felt it often enough- but to think that this little girl… this _child…_ knew that kind of fear… it wasn't right. Anger stirred in his chest; what had this world come to? Was there _nothing_ good in it?

Carefully, he leaned down, closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What are you afraid of, Katy…?"

At last, she looked to him. There were tears in her eyes, pouring down her small cheeks. She sniffled, and when she spoke, her voice was cracked.

"Fraye's dead, right?" she demanded with a strange urgency. "You killed her?"

Loki, stunned, nodded once.

She closed her eyes and wailed, "Then why does she still see her?" She threw a finger in the direction of my sleeping form. "Why can't I get her out of our heads?!"

Loki stared at the child. His fingertips started to tremble. And, as she stared up at him, desperate for answers, still crying, he found that he had no response. No answer to give.

So he didn't. Instead, his eyes softening, he said, "I don't know, Katy. I truly don't know."

Her eyes closed again, sending more tears streaming down her cheeks. Abruptly, she flung herself forwards, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist, and he could do nothing but hug her back. And so he did, holding her close, trying to keep her safe when he knew, deep down, he could not.

 _I'm so sorry._

As he silently apologized, holding the small half-breed in his arms, he was completely oblivious to the two watchers, eyeing him from the corner of their vision. And as Katydid continued to cry, Puck and Reggie-both very much awake- let out a simultaneous sigh that hissed through their teeth.

Reggie curled in on herself, turning her attention away from Loki and Katy, turning toward her older brother. Her eyes closed as she whispered, "I can't stand it."

Puck nodded tightly, very much in agreement. He, too, averted his eyes, but he found them returning quite frequently, eyeing his littlest sister cautiously. He disliked seeing his sister- either of his sisters- cry. It was ingrained in him, his role as protector- _Family Before All-_ but how do you protect someone, when they are the ones hurting themselves? Katy's empathy was uncontrollable. Being around such damaged souls, being exposed to people like the so-called 'Shadowslayers'… it was bound to hurt her. And there was no one to blame, no one to fight, no one to punch or hurt so that he could make it all better for her. No Band-Aids, no salves for her injuries. Her injury was caused by what she was. He was powerless.

He hated that feeling.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes to close, feeling anger simmering inside of him. The ground beneath him felt too still, too calm. The very air felt too calm. He wanted to cause chaos, but what good would it do? This anger was pointless.

So he directed it towards the only people he could think deserved it: the ones who had sent him here. The ones who had sent him to guide the Shadowslayers.

The ones who had sent Reggie and Katydid right into the line of fire.

"How could they do this?" he hissed. Reggie's eyes flicked open, landed on him. "How could they send her here? Send _you_ here? You're just… Katy's just a _kid_ for realms' sake, and you-!"

Reggie's eyes narrowed, warning him with her eyes that he was about to stray into dangerous territory. He backtracked after a moment, sucking in a breath and letting it out in a long, slow sigh. "You shouldn't have to deal with this," he said at last.

"None of us should have," Reggie replied bluntly. "But they had no choice, Puck. You know that. This is our 'destiny'. Our 'fate'. Chosen for us just as it was chosen for you: by the sheer randomness of the universe." She pulled her blanket up to her shoulder, trying to tuck her face away into it, trying to retreat. There was anger simmering inside of her, too, a fiercer anger than he knew, and for all different reasons. "We were supposed to be here, now, and so we _are_ here, now. That's how it works, isn't it?"

Puck looked to her, caught sight of the anger in her eyes. His sister was always angry, and he wished he knew why. He wished he could help her. But he was just as powerless to save Reggie from her fury as he was to save Katy from her empathy. They were rooted inside of his sisters, too much hate and too little, and they could not be torn out. His gaze softened, however; at least this feeling, he could relate to. "How long have you known that they were going to send you?"

She looked to him, briefly, then her eyes darted away and she shrugged, a very minute gesture, still trying to appear as though she was asleep. None of the other campers seemed to have noticed yet that they were awake and speaking to each other, and they wanted to keep it that way. This was not their first secret conversation in the dark. "Since I was born, pretty much. Like you." She took another measured, deep breath, partly so that she could let it out in a sigh, and partly so that she could still appear to be sleeping. "They told me to keep it a secret."

Puck nodded a minute nod. He was well aware that his sisters had kept secrets from him; and he had kept secrets from them. So many secrets, for so many years, things that Reggie wasn't ready to hear, things she just _couldn't_ hear yet… things Katy already knew, though for different reasons…

At least that part of Reggie's anger, he understood. Katy was the youngest of the three, and even she knew the things that Reggie did not. The things she could not, not for a very long time. The dark things that the family hid…

He pushed the thought out of his head, as though afraid she'd pluck it out. The two fell into quiet, listening to Katydid's small sobbing, to Loki's silence, his inability to say anything to comfort her. Puck thought that was for the best; Katy knew false promises when she heard them. Loki couldn't tell her everything would be all right; she knew that it wouldn't. Again, Puck's teeth clenched. It was a natural reflex, as evidenced by the pain in his jaw that flared up as he did so. Despite what Reggie had said about how they'd had no choice, his anger at those who had sent him still swelled. The Shadowslayers were broken people; you don't send an _empath-_ particularly one who is only beginning to control her powers- to help broken people. Not if you didn't want to break the empath herself.

"Why don't they recognize us?"

Reggie's voice was small, tiny; but it was packed with bitterness and aggression. The emotions were tightly wound together over the words, clogging them up so that there was little room for the words themselves to actually be heard. Puck looked to her, and she to him, and what he saw on his sister's face frightened him. Not for the first time, he wondered what Reggie was capable of, what she could do if she ever _snapped._

Hoping never to find out, he attempted to diffuse the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, but she carried on, "They should _recognize_ us. They always say that we're _everything_ to them, but then they don't even see their own-"

Puck clamped a hand over her mouth before she could say more, glancing around furtively. Neither the almost-spoken word nor Puck's actions to keep it from being said had been noticed. They were safe, for now.

Slowly, Puck lifted his hand off of Reggie's lips. His eyes held a silent lecture as he chastised, " _Don't._ Say it out loud."

She nodded, seeming annoyed at both him for his method of stopping her and herself, for needing to be stopped in the first place. Saying the words out loud could be dangerous: the Shadowslayers weren't meant to know the truth. "You know what I mean," she carried on. "I thought it would be hard to keep it from them, but they're… oblivious. They don't know _anything._ "

"Good," Puck said in a brusque tone that made her flinch. "They're not supposed to."

"They _should."_

"They should, but they can't. And frankly, Reg, neither could you. No one could anticipate this, anticipate _us."_ His eyes were stern, his voice a lecture. Reggie found herself tuning him out after the first few words, the tone of his voice flipping a _this-will-get-boring_ switch in her brain. "Think about it from their side of the story; we're just a bunch of random people in their lives. We just _showed up_ out of _nowhere,_ and you expect them to know who we are? Expect them to know everything about us?"

She shushed him as his voice began to rise, but again, no one had noticed. Katy was still too busy crying and Loki was still too busy trying to stop those tears. For a few brief moments, the two listened, making certain.

Then Reggie said, in a quiet voice, "I don't expect them to know everything. I just… wish they knew _something._ " She looked back up into Puck's eyes and wondered aloud, "How do you do it? How do you separate them from… who they were? How do you talk to Natalie and Loki… and not see…" she hesitated. "You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort?" he teased, and her eyes immediately narrowed. Clearly, she was not in the mood for games. He'd known as much, but the conversation was too heavy, too deep. He'd wished to distract her from that. He should've known better. "Simple," he replied. "Are you the same person _you_ once were? Will you still be the same person a few years from now?"

Reggie considered that in silence, and Puck concluded, "The Shadowslayers are only that; the Shadowslayers. They're not who we know that they can be." He paused, recognizing what he'd said, then grinned sheepishly. "If that makes any sense."

She nodded, but it was a placating gesture. He could tell that she didn't believe him, not completely. "Guess so," she mumbled, and he knew that to carry on further would be pointless. He'd lost her.

So he turned away. "You shouldn't think about this stuff so late at night," he said. "Get some rest. You need it."

He wasn't wrong. She _did_ need rest. But she wasn't going to get it, not tonight.

She waited for her brother to sleep, for her sister to stop crying. She waited for Katydid to fall asleep in Loki's arms, waited for the Trickster to set the little girl down beside her siblings. She waited for Loki to return to sleep himself, exhausted and tired of thinking, tired of mourning, tired of it all. She waited until the entire world was getting the rest that she needed, and then she stood in silence, sneaking out of the camp, weapons in hand and footsteps silent.

"You still don't have an excuse for not seeing who I am," she whispered to the sleeping Shadowslayers. "Because you never saw me before, either."

And then she ran off, into the woods.

Into the darkness.

* * *

When I woke the next morning, Reggie wasn't there. Puck claimed that she'd gone hunting for food, and that she'd be back soon. He sat beside Bones and talked to her in the interim, and I swear that the kid actually made her smile. She still didn't eat anything that we gave her-unless Puck gave it to her- and she had refused to fight the other day- until Puck had asked her to- and she hated every single one of us- except maybe Puck. And, granted, she was nicer to the other half-breeds, too; but it was different, with them. With Reggie and Katy, it was like she was just protecting one of the younger members in a pack that didn't belong to her. With Puck… it was like she was the rogue, and he was trying to pull her into the pack with the rest of them. And maybe he was winning.

 _Or maybe not,_ I thought as Bones' eyes narrowed, and she growled at him suddenly. He raised his hands in surrender and seemed to change the subject.

I turned my attention away from the two, only to find that Loki was similarly enthralled by their conversation. "She does not trust him," he mused. "Not as we did."

The thought chilled me a little- we still had no logical explanation as to why we trusted the three hybrids so absolutely- but I brushed it aside. "Anything from Fenrir?" I asked, scanning the trees. He shook his head.

"Another quiet night," he replied. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "All things considered."

I nodded. Katydid's empathy got to Loki, it really did. And it got to me; Loki and I were some seriously screwed up people. We weren't the greatest people for a growing empath to be hanging out with. But, now that she was in the daylight again, Katy seemed happy, talking to Bones and running drills with that little sword of hers. She seemed like just another ordinary little girl.

But she wasn't. She was a girl who had Fraye in her head, a girl who had stolen a nightmare out of another person's heart. She had taken Fraye onto herself, taken on the burden of those eyes and the sound of that sick laugh, taken on the feeling of fear and pain. She had absorbed it unwillingly, while I had held onto it, clutched my pain close to my chest and refused to let it go.

The pain, the hate, the rage… it was just supposed to be _my_ burden. It was bad enough that I was making Loki go through it, too; but now this little girl had to know who and what Fraye was… because of _me._

It was _bullshit._

I sighed, pushing my hair back from my forehead and tying it up behind my head. I wished I could talk to someone- Natasha, maybe, or Tiff- but I knew that none of them could help me. No one could stop this but me.

But I still needed _time…_

I brushed the thoughts aside. Guilt and anxiety wouldn't help the kid, either. I went behind some trees to get dressed- more traveling clothes, of course, simple and sturdy and sensible- and, by the time I returned, Reggie was back. There was blood smeared on her cheek and a dead snake slung over her shoulder, but while her expression was grim and steely, her eyes had a certain look to them, like a cat who brings home a dead mouse to its master. " _See that? That on the floor? That's because I respect you. Don't expect it very much, because it won't happen often. Honestly, you'd better appreciate all of the things that I do for you, human."_

"Yo, Bones!" She called, tossing the snake at the Wyr's feet. The white-haired woman recoiled briefly, shying away from the dead thing in front of her. Reggie didn't seem to notice. "Go nuts," she said, waving over her shoulder with her back to the Wyr. It took me a moment to recognize that Bones had not been recoiling because the idea of a dead snake at her feet repelled her; but rather because it was _Reggie_ who had thrown it. She was actually close to drooling, her eyes not leaving it.

Puck barked out a laugh, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking, and echoed his sister's sentiment: "Go nuts, Bones. It's all yours." She whimpered in the back of her throat but picked it up off the ground and, shooting Loki and I a dangerous and wary glare, she backed away and clutched the dead creature protectively to her chest.

I blinked, a little surprised by the exchange, but apparently Loki was not. All he said was, "Are you certain it's actually a _snake?"_

"Close enough," Reggie replied, and I suppose it was. I wished I could look closer at it, see what the differences were between this species and any that might have been back on Earth, but Bones had already extended her claws and ripped the thing open, dyeing those claws in venom and blood. I looked away- snake guts aren't a pleasant sight- and she chowed down happily.

"Guess it's a wolf thing," I said, vaguely nauseated. Loki's lip quirked up, but he said nothing as, clutching my stomach, I moved away a few steps. The smell of it, even so far away, seemed overpowering, and I made myself walk onwards in an attempt to rid myself of the stench, and the sick feeling in my stomach that came with it.

"Snake is her favorite food," Puck admitted, walking up to me out of the blue. "Drives her batshit." He grinned a manic grin and walked past me, towards his sister, while I smiled weakly in return. Puck and Reggie sorted out the food she'd gathered quietly, and I told everyone that I'd start ahead and scout. Puck gave me a direction and I went with it, happy to be alone for just a few minutes.

It was a grey day. A rainy day. The clouds were swollen with their own unshed tears and I just knew that they would fall today. I could feel it, smell it. And as I walked, I began to long for it. Rainy days were uncommon on Jotunheim (read: nonexistent) and I realized I'd missed it. I'd missed Earth.

I closed my eyes and pushed the thoughts away; not for the first time. If I was immortal, I'd have to get used to Jotunheim. It would be home soon, not Earth, one way or another, and if I was immortal, then everything that kept me attached to Earth would die off and fade away within a short time-

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks, and I stopped suddenly, dead in my tracks. Everything that kept me attached to Earth would die off. Fade away. And everything that kept me attached to earth wasn't an every _thing,_ it was an every _one._

 _They're all going to die. I'm going to outlive the Avengers._

I swallowed. A world without the Avengers. A world without Tony or Steve or Clint or Bruce. A world without Natasha. A world with only three of us: Thor, Loki and I.

That world was gonna be crap.

A vision struck me next, a vision of a graveyard, tombstones marked with names and epitaphs that I knew by heart, dates that I had memorized. They were the dates of terrible days that I had lived through, the bad days, when I lost yet another of them. Markers over graves made of stone that was eroding, fading away, the names barely legible, the stones overgrown. I could see the names on the stones- barely- but I was beginning to forget them; forget why the one named 'Tony Stark' had a tombstone that was larger than the rest of them, forget that he had wanted to be larger than life even when dead. I was beginning to forget that no one had thought twice about putting that giant-ass American Flag over the tombstone marked 'Steve Rogers'. I was beginning to forget why the ones named 'Clint' and 'Natasha' had been buried together, what the first name was on the tombstone marked 'Banner' or why I always got a sense of calm and peace whenever I looked at that particular name…

And as my memories faded with the stone, I lived on, with my husband and brother-in-law who had both forgotten long before I had, but were used to this, so very used to it. And all I could think was _I'm not ready to let them go._

But these memories were all I had of them, and they were slipping through my grasp.

I shuddered back into reality, out of my vision, only when the sky opened, and a droplet of water struck the top of my head. I took a deep breath, hoping the smell of rain would wash the thoughts out of my head, but I knew they wouldn't go away. And it was only a matter of time before they became a reality.

 _No,_ I ordered myself, as the rain grew from drops into sheets, falling down on my head. _One day at a time. Just take things one day at a time._

The colors of the world grew darker as I walked on, the world becoming damp. The earth beneath my feet became a darker brown, as did the bark on the trees, the grey of the stones. Drops rolled down from leaves and soaked into the back of my neck and my exposed arms and hands, until I pulled a sweater out of my bag and then the rain only soaked my bare hands. It was beautiful, to see the world cry.

My thoughts, however, were turning to dark places yet again. Places that I could not allow them to go to. Worries of the future, fears from my past, all of the terrible things that I didn't want to think about. I didn't trust myself alone with these thoughts.

So I lagged behind, waiting for my husband, our prisoner, and the three half-breeds to catch up. I walked side by side with Loki when they finally made it- he was, of course, privy to my dark musings, so he did not question me- and Reggie scouted on ahead in my place, a strange, dark purpose in her step.

Knowing that I could not let myself think too deeply on anything inside of my own head, I listened in on the conversations of the half-breeds. There was little in the way of distraction there: Puck was silent, and Katy was humming a quiet little tune to herself. She had a pretty little voice, gentle and pure, and I laughed to myself when I recognized the tune. How many other kids her age would be caught singing Tom Petty?

"You don't have," I sang quietly with her, "To live like a Refugee-" I stopped singing when I realized that it was making her feel self-conscious; she blushed and went all quiet and only started up again after I'd been completely silent for about two minutes.

After a while, though, Puck struck up a conversation with Bones. She seemed extra skittish today, like Reggie had given her that snake as her last meal or something, and when he spoke, she jumped. "You really should get those scars of yours looked at, you know," he told her. "A decent healer could have some of them erased before you know it."

I didn't expect her to respond. I'm not sure why- she and Puck had traded words a few times now, but it was always in the language of the Wyrs; nothing I ever understood. Still, I was grateful to understand _now._ "Why bother?" she asked quietly. She ran her fingertips down the ladder-rungs on her arms and I was forced to turn away, to stop looking back at them even from the corner of my eye. "They are a part of me."

"I'm not talking about those ones," Puck said, and for some reason his tone was sarcastic, like he was rolling his eyes straight up to the grey sky. "The ones on your muzzle, though, or-"

"You think my face could use some- how you say- 'prettying up'?" She asked, and her voice sounded remarkably like she was teasing him. She also had a very heavy accent, I only now realized. It was the longest sentence I'd ever heard from her; big surprise that she actually didn't know perfect English. I wasn't sure why I'd assumed she had.

I expected for him to laugh. He didn't. His voice was completely sincere as he asked, "Why would I ever want that? You look perfect the way you are."

Cheesy. Cheesy as hell. I found myself glancing back at them, just so I could shoot Puck a _really-kid?-really?_ Look at him. But he wasn't looking at me; his face was open, kind, and almost childlike in its honesty. And Bones didn't seem to realize how cheesy it was at all; in fact, her pale face had a blush in the cheeks, her ears tipped with pink. She was staring at the ground, silver-black eyes darting about like she didn't know where to look, her hands twitching like she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with them. I smirked a little to myself. Bones, the Wyr Wolf, the Deadly Monster Assassin, the Prisoner of the Shadowslayers, had a crush befitting of a High School Girl. It was almost cute.

If it was a crush. Something about the way she was acting made it seem like this was just the first compliment she'd ever gotten in her life; and she just didn't know what to say. I sympathized. I knew what it was like, to suddenly get a 'normal' compliment. One that wasn't like: _Oh, hey, great job stabbing that dude in the face, you totally nailed that move._

"Oh," she responded.

They were quiet for a while. Then, softly, he said something I didn't expect. "That one on your shoulder, though, the one Fenrir gave you?" his voice was amazingly casual. "You could erase that, maybe."

I was completely taken aback; and, from the way that Bones hissed through her teeth, it seemed I wasn't the only one. "That memory was _private,_ little telepath," she growled, and I blinked in surprise.

 _Telepath?_

So we had one kid who was an empath, and another who was a telepath, all standing around us and our crazy selves. Loki wasn't as surprised as I was at this news, so he managed to remind me without words that we were, in fact, telepaths ourselves. Even _if_ the boy could read minds, there was a very slim chance that he could read _ours._ Remembering that calmed me down a little, and I glanced back at the pair as Puck shrugged. Apparently, he'd already known that Bones knew what he was.

"It's not my fault I have an all-access pass to your brainwaves," he said cheerily.

"You could control it better," she grumbled.

"I could. But I don't have to, not around you." I saw him flash a cheeky grin in her direction. "I've got full permission to root around in your head and see whatever the heck I want."

"Not _my_ permission," she started, but Puck's grin only grew wider.

"Yes, actually," he replied cryptically. " _Yours._ "

As she started at him, bewildered, he shrugged again and said, "I told you I know everything about you, Bones. I always have."

She blinked a few times, clearing away her own confusion. I found myself slowing a little in an effort to hear their conversation and forced myself to take a few quick steps forwards as her lips pulled up suddenly, into a toothy smile. She leaned in close to him and whispered, "If you knew _everything,_ little half-breed, you would flee in terror."

He rolled his eyes again, making 'blah blah blah' motions with his hand, then pointing to it with his other hand. "You see this? This is Handy the Hand Puppet. He thinks you're full of shit. I'm inclined to agree."

Katy laughed- a squealing peal of a laugh that startled me. I hadn't realized she was listening in, too- and clapped her tiny hands together as Bones directed a murder stare of death in her direction. As she turned her glare back to Puck, he still seemed abnormally casual. "I know what the tally marks on your arm mean. Isn't that enough?"

"Is not everything," she grumbled in response.

"No. The reason you work for Fenrir is everything." Despite the calm tone, his eyes were suddenly sharper than steel as he drove them in her direction. There was an undercurrent of lightning in his voice as he added, "And it is not reason enough."

She flinched away from the words, staring at the ground. The pinkness in her cheeks got brighter.

"He barely thought about what he did," Puck carried on, his casual tone now fooling no one. "He barely thought about saving her. He just did it to get you out of his way. And now he uses you because he doesn't know what else to do with you." His eyes went back to her again, seeming to cut to the core. "You're just a tool to him, Bones."

"That's all I have to be." She answered in a quiet voice.

He rolled his eyes- the gesture was decidedly more aggressive this time- and sighed an angry sigh. "You're still so full of shit," he grumbled. "Does he even let you see her anymore, Bones? Has he _ever?"_

She fell silent. Then, quietly, she spoke in the language of the Wyrs- I had the distinct impression that she was asking him not to say anything 'in front of the Shadowslayers', because our names definitely came up- but he cut her off. "No. You say this to me, and to everyone. You answer me this, and I'll leave you alone."

"You already know the answer," she snapped. "You know what he is, what I am. Ask no more."

"I'm asking. And if you don't tell, _I will._ "

I didn't look at her. But I didn't have to. I could feel the hurt, radiating off of her. Could feel the betrayal. The rage. And when she spoke, her voice was so dead and empty and lifeless that I knew she was just going through the motions. That she hated him for this, that she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

"No," She replied. "He has not."

"And he never will," Puck added. This time, his voice was softer.

"And he never will," she agreed.

They were quiet. Then, gently, Puck said, "I will."

Bones didn't get the chance to respond because, up ahead, Reggie called back to us. "We've got some kind of swamp thing up here," she said. "There's some plants and…" she hesitated. I saw her push aside a few draping vines that were blocking her visibility. The forest was dense up ahead, with no way we could go around without losing a hopeless amount of time. She paused, looking for a few moments, then dropped the curtain of vines and turned around, her movements stiff and robotic.

"Nope," she declared, walking back towards us. Her face was much paler than it should be.

I looked at her, curious and confused, and took the few steps forward to the vines. Pushing them aside, I felt the blood rush out of my own face. My knees got a little wobbly as Loki stepped up beside me, and I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth.

Spiders.

Spiders _everywhere._

Spiders as big as my freaking _head._

They covered the ground ahead of me like a carpet, moving and wriggling and alive. Hairy or smooth, black or brown or white with red or yellow stripes or shapes. A thousand black and beady eyes watched me, a million legs moving about as mandibles clacked together, fangs bared. Saying that they were as big as my head was actually sugarcoating it; while the smallest were only about the size of my hand, the biggest looked large enough to swallow Katydid whole. There were a few babies skittering about that looked about the size of ours back home… y'know, like tarantulas.

I dropped the vines, taking a step back. Loki moved back with me, watching me wearily.

"NOPE!" I agreed with Reggie, turning right around and heading back to her. Her red eyes were on me.

"Nope?" She asked.

"Nope." I agreed. The two of us turned to Puck, Bones, and Katydid together, chorusing, "Nope!"

They looked at us as if questioning whether we'd eaten the funnily-colored mushrooms. Puck and Katy exchanged looks before heading together, Bones following a cautious step behind. They looked through together and, for a long moment, nothing happened.

"NOPE!" Puck shouted, turning around and heading towards Reggie and I. "Nope nope nope!"

"Nope!" We agreed.

"Nope!"

"Nope!"

"Nope!"

Loki and Katydid shared a look. "I'm surrounded by idiots," Katy told him, and Loki very much seemed to sympathize with the sentiment. Bones looked to Puck questioningly, and Loki and Katydid were certainly giving him the most dubious of their own looks.

"Hey!" He protested, as Reggie and I continued 'Nope'-ing. "Spiders are a very manly fear!"

"I'm sure," Loki replied drily. Turning to Katydid, he said, "Allow me."

"No way in _hell!"_ I shouted, snatching his arm and pulling him back. "No. No no no no no."

He looked at me, exasperated. "Well by all rights, Frost, _you_ are the one who should do this. You would be the safest, certainly."

He wasn't wrong; with my shield, no spider- even one as large as these- could bite me, even if it tried. I'd just have to close the gap and walk through. Not that I was going to _do_ that, of course.

Grinning prettily at him, I said, "You know, walking around the forest really won't take _that_ much more time-"

His eyes narrowed. "Give me control, Frost. I'll take care of this."

I frowned, then full-out pouted. "Do I _have_ to?" I whined. His steely eyes would not be swayed, however, so, with a resounding, "Phooey", I slid myself aside, pushing my thoughts into his. He melded his thoughts through mine, sliding past without gripping hold, and slid into control of my body.

Yes, we can do that. Frightening, isn't it?

Granted, his control was terrible, and parts of me were still stuck in my own head, of course. And I was, naturally, in charge of _his_ body now. But his entire left arm was numb to me- he was still in control of that- and I could feel my own left arm, though I tried not to move it. I didn't want it getting in the way. Shivering a little- this was _not_ a pleasant experience- I said through his lips, "Just get it done quickly, okay? And if you get my body bit I will _never_ forgive you."

Bones- who only now seemed to realize what was going on- looked a little nauseous. This wasn't the first time we'd done this- we'd practiced a few times before, just in case it was needed- but we didn't like doing it. At _all._ Besides, our control could slip back at any second, so he had to hurry.

I watched my own body walk away from me- oddly not the weirdest thing to ever happen to me- and it walked straight into that carpet of spiders. I shivered and tried to close my mind off to what I was still seeing through my own eyes; but it was impossible.

"Gross," I whimpered. "Gross gross gross."

"Stop making me look like a coward!" My own voice called back to me.

"Stop walking me through a den of freaking _SPIDERS_ and we'll talk!"

The half-breeds seemed oddly calm about this. I guess with a telepath _and_ an empath in their family, they understood these weird quirks.

"Natalie," Loki called back.

"What?"

"Your arm itches."

"Screw you."

"Honestly, Frost, it's intolerable."

I rolled my eyes, but slid back into my own head enough to use my left arm- the one I still had control over- to scratch the right. Yes, I'm well aware how weird that is. But the instant I did so, we found ourselves catapulted back into our own bodies- being in each other's heads was our natural state, _not_ in each other's bodies- and I was abruptly standing in the middle of a field full of spiders.

And freaking _space_ spiders, to boot.

Screaming like a little girl, I fled back to the relative safety of the forest. Reggie pushed me back just as I made it to the vines, shouting, "NOPE!" And I immediately saw why; my scream had alerted the arachnids.

And they were following me.

"Shiiiiiiitttt!" I shouted, flinging myself to the side. "Shit shit shiiiiiittttt!"

I kept running. They kept chasing. Or, in some cases, launching themselves at me from the side, or trying to block my path. I heard things to _squish_ underfoot- or I suppose I should say under shield _-_ and flipped. Spider guts. Spider guts everywhere.

"Yeep!" I squeaked.

"Get control of yourself, Frost!" Loki snapped. I swear I heard Bones laughing. "They're just bugs! They are not even _spiders!_ Those are indigenous to Earth!"

"They are close e-damn-nough!" I snarled. Loki rolled his eyes and stepped through, his skin darkening into blue as mist curled off of his hands. Ice spread out, crackling, from his footsteps, coating the Spider lookalikes. Katy stepped through next, followed by Bones, who was still laughing as she transformed. And suddenly, we were all at war, and there was no more talking. Just fighting.

Reggie and Puck joined after a minute. Puck whimpered a little, but Reggie fixed her little problem by shouting, _"DIE SPIDER DIE,"_ and laughing a terrifyingly maniacal laugh as she smacked them with her staff, or stabbed them with a knife. Ice spread around all of the three Jotuns, keeping them from being bit, but Bones was completely unprotected. She didn't seem to care. Hell, she didn't even seem to notice.

I struck out at the spiders with spikes of my force field, only opening the gap intermittently, and always away from them. Just so I could breathe. The battle didn't take too long; just long enough for us to retreat through to the other side and kill anything that followed us.

We all ran, as fast as we could, onward through the forest, until at last we were _certain_ that none of them had followed and/or latched onto us. Reggie and Puck froze their skin to make sure nothing was clinging, and Loki and Katy followed suit moments later. Bones rolled around on the ground and I dropped my field. Nothing could've gotten onto me, but I made Loki spread a little frost over me just to be sure. It was totally cold, and uncomfortable when it melted, but worth it.

Puck, Reggie and I spazzed for a few minutes, flipping out and 'Oh-my-gosh-that-was-the-worst-let's-never-to-that-again'-ing. Bones was still grinning a doggy grin as she walked up to Puck, nudging him with her nose. Whatever she thought was obviously not flattering, because Puck's blue face darkened in a blush, and he turned away, grumbling, "Shut up. You're the one with fleas."

She barked- it sounded more like a laugh than her human version's- and pranced about for a little bit, kinda like Jekyll did whenever he got a bone, always flaunting it in front of Hyde. And Puck, like Hyde, did his best to look like he was above such trivial matters. Loki, now that he was not so annoyed with my arachnophobia, placed a hand on my shoulder and said, a little more gently, "Are you all right?"

"Peachy," I replied. "We shall never speak of this again."

A mischievous glint twinkled in his eye. "If you truly believe that I will not tell the Avengers about this little incident, Miss Frost, you are sorely mistaken."

"You wouldn't."

He grinned. "I would, and I shall." As I opened my mouth to protest, he held up a hand, cutting me off. Adopting his most regal tone, he added, "But never let it be said that I'm not a merciful king: I shall allow you to choose the manner in which they learn of this recent debacle, should you wish."

"They'll find out over my dead body."

"A more gruesome reveal than I would have anticipated, but if you insist-" I cut him off by tackling him. He managed to keep to his feet (but only barely) by dodging to the side partially, but we still collided.

"Get a room," Reggie grumbled, walking forward, as I collapsed into giggles and Loki smiled. "C'mon, we've still got a long way to go."

I rolled my eyes, muttered, "Bossy," under my breath, but carried on after them. Bones, despite her earlier fight with Puck, seemed much cheerier, still prancing forward in her wolf form.

It seemed, however, that our trials for the day were not yet over. We were walking forward- still coming down from our victory high- about a half an hour later when it happened. When Katydid stopped abruptly.

Puck and Reggie fell to a halt soon afterwards, despite the fact that Katy was behind them, and they didn't see her stop. I stopped, too, curious as to what was going on, and a strange buzzing in the back of my head started to get louder. It was an odd, fuzzy static, and I put it down to whatever had Katy spooked. But it wasn't a _bad_ feeling. It was something… else.

I pushed the thought from my mind as Katy said, "We're here."

Reggie's teeth gritted together. Puck swallowed. "You sure, Kit-Kat?" he asked quietly. She nodded a few times. Puck's face abruptly became solemn.

"All right," he said, shifting suddenly, away from joyful celebration and back into leadership. Looking around at everyone, he ordered, "Listen up. Reggie, seal Katy's weapon. I'll seal yours. Kat, you seal mine." The two sisters nodded. Puck looked to Bones. "Shift to your bipedal form and stay in it. Loki, you should have me seal your weapon, too. Just to be safe."

"Safe?" I asked. "Safe from what?"

He looked to me and frowned. "The nanos shouldn't be a problem," he said, "But I'd like to-"

"Safe from _what,_ Puck?" I repeated. He hesitated.

"The Forest of Fear," Reggie replied for him. "Stupid name, I know, but we were kids, and our naming skills weren't great." She had Katydid's sword in hand, and was passing a green-blue glowing hand over it. "It's not a fun place."

Puck nodded solemn agreement. "It's… a problem." He said at last, holding his hand out. Loki cautiously removed his spear, placing it in the half-breed's palm. No sooner had he done so than Puck passed a glowing hand over it, handing it back. It would now be lethal in no one's hands but Puck himself; and only he could remove that seal.

"We don't want anyone hurting each other," he said as Loki made the spear disappear yet again, and Bones slowly shifted into her other form. He sealed Reggie's weapons- she had quite a few of them- as he explained, "It's… basically, it's a place where the Faden take your brain and screw with it. It's one of the bigger tests that this planet has to offer; where they make you see your greatest fear." His eyes landed on Loki and I with a particular emphasis as he added, "And there will be no one there to help you through it."

I swallowed. A few weeks ago, I would've rejected that notion outright. But after seeing creatures that could get through our telepathy without even thinking about it, I was a little more open to the possibility. I clutched Loki's hand tightly. "You mean…" I swallowed. "They'll split us apart?"

He considered. "More like _numb_ you. You'll still be fine, your connection will still be established, but you won't be _aware_ of each other. And then you'll be pulled into some pretty nasty hallucinations." He turned to the trees ahead of us. They looked no denser, no scarier, and no different from all of the trees that surrounded us. "You'll see your worst nightmare and… well, there'll be nothing you can do to stop it."

I swallowed, half expecting some creepy, hallucinogenic fog to start seeping in through the trees. There was nothing; only the cheerful, dappled light scattered across the grass beneath our feet. "For how long?"

"Long enough." He replied darkly. "Now, we _are_ going to get split up. That much is a given. So whoever comes out first- and with all of us, one of us is _bound_ to come out- you have to try to pull the others through." He gave hard looks to all of us.

"Hold on," I cut in. "Isn't this just a trick? I mean, if we _know_ it's an illusion, doesn't that mean… when we see our greatest fears, won't we know that it's a lie?"

"If you know that you're breathing in knockout gas, does that mean that you won't pass out?" Puck countered, then shook his head. "No. The Faden are directly involved here; they know how to make a person believe in the reality of something. All we can do is try to prepare, and try to make it out to the other side."

"And how, exactly, are we supposed to do that?" Loki asked in a cold, thin voice. "If they have us trapped in our own nightmares, then how are we supposed to break free of them?"

"There'll be a way," Puck promises. "They wouldn't put us through the test if there wasn't an answer; even if that answer is just another person." His eyes grew cold. "But it usually isn't, so don't count on that."

Reggie took her sealed weapons back from her brother, sheathing them or packing them away in her shoe. "We're going to be wandering for a while, so we don't want to run into each other and start swinging swords at random," She added. "Hence the sealing of the weaponry."

"Exactly," Puck agreed as Katy handed his bow and arrow back to him.

I swallowed. "So… what? We can't just… _avoid_ it?"

Puck shook his head. "No. It's a standard of the Faden. If we avoided it, then they'd just do it again, somewhere that we don't expect. That, or they'd do _worse_. We have to do this the right way."

I considered that, looking to Loki. He looked suspicious as hell- like this had all been a ruse just to drag us out here so they could mug us or something- but I laced my hand in his and reminded him, _We_ _ **did**_ _agree to trust them as our guides._

That seemed to smooth a few feathers, and he calmed slightly. Nodding once, he started forwards, then thought better of it and said in a liquid voice, "After you, half-breed."

"Why thank you," Reggie said with a bow, though it was very clear that she was not the half-breed he was referring to. Still, her response seemed to fluster Loki; our weird feelings about the three aside, he seemed to _like_ Reggie more than he did Puck. They just got along better, spoke at the same wavelength. He didn't really mean to insult her.

Puck gave him a long look, then followed Reggie. Katy followed Puck, and Bones followed Katy, leaving the pair of us behind.

I took a deep breath. Then, turning to my husband, I took his collar, pulled him down, and kissed him hard, mashing his lips against mine. Pulling back, I declared, "Let's do this!" And followed after them all.

Loki caught up with me moments later, and we began our journey into the Forest of Fear.

* * *

Forest of Fear? Forest of _Lame,_ more like.

Twenty minutes in, and nothing had happened. I was actually getting downright bored. The buzzing in my head was getting worse, but it was an oddly comfortable thing. Kinda like it belonged there or something. But, other than that- and the twitchiness of my fellow traveling companions, which had steadily been getting worse- nothing had happened.

I was starting to wonder when Fraye would show up. Because, I mean, of course she would. It _had_ to be her, right? I couldn't really think of anything else that made me wanna scream like a little girl as much as _she_ did. Sure, the spiders were a close second, but Fraye was _Fraye._

I wondered what else it could be- I mean, I suppose there were a few other possibilities- but I couldn't wonder for much longer. Because then Bones started whimpering.

She started speaking in a fast language- it sounded like she was begging, pleading- and started to wander. Puck gently took her hand and started to pull her in the same direction as the rest of us. I wondered why we didn't just tie ourselves together with ropes or something, but that question was answered when Bones struck violently against Puck's hand, throwing it aside with a snarl and throwing herself in another direction, looking wounded and frightened.

"Bones!" Puck cried, but Reggie held him back, shaking her head.

"She can't hear you, Puck," she snapped. "Stick together as best you can. You know it's the right thing to do."

Puck's face sank into misery, but he nodded, opening his mouth to agree… but Reggie cut him off.

"I mean," she laughed a little. It was a mad laugh, a touch crazed. "You _always_ know the right thing to do, don't you? Because I've gotta wonder, what with how many times you just do the _wrong_ thing. It should be me there right now, Puck. _I_ should be standing there, not _you._ You're going to ruin _everything._ And I'll be waiting in the wings watching it all fall down."

Puck looked at her, confused; and then I noticed. I gripped his shoulder, whispering, "Look at her eyes, Puck."

He did. Reggie's red eyes were glassy, misted over. She clearly wasn't here right now. "It should've been me," she said, her voice cracking. "It _always_ should've been me."

"Reg-" he started, holding onto her, keeping her from running; and, abruptly, we were cut off by the sound of someone screaming.

Okay, then. _Not_ the Forest of Lame.

Katy fell down to the ground, crouching in a ball, clutching her head and screaming her little lungs out. The sound was so startling that Reggie managed to break free as we all looked to Katy, tried to help her; and she ran off amid the trees, disappearing faster than I would've thought possible. "Reggie!" Loki called, moving after her as Puck and I tried to help Katy. She took in another deep breath and kept screaming, a high-pitched note that rang deafeningly through the air. Puck managed to grab Loki before he split.

"No!" he snapped. "The longer we're together, the more likely it is that we'll find each other again! Stick with the group!"

Loki obeyed, but his teeth were tightly clenched. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close to his side. The buzz in the back of my head was starting to fear, too, and I tried to soothe it as I scrambled to keep hold of my sanity. Katy was still screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Very well, Natalie," Loki's voice was a quiet murmur by my ear. "If we must."

"What?" I asked, looking to him… and immediately recoiled. His face looked haggard and worn, utterly exhausted. But his eyes weren't seeing me, even as he spoke my name. "She looks so much like you, Natalie," he said, a dreamy smile on his face. "Yes, you're correct, my eyes. But still-"

My heart did a little flip-flop as I realized what he was referring to. His head was kind of fuzzy in my mind, kind of muggy, and I struggled to push through the walls that separated us. No, it wasn't a _wall…_ it was a _fog._ He was on the other end, somewhere; but I couldn't see where I was going. Puck stood abruptly, away from the still screaming Katy- her ghostly wails echoing over and over in my brain- and he suddenly spoke. He said only one word- "Bones"- and then he was running, flying away, disappearing before I even had a chance to grab hold of him.

And now I was standing next to a screaming little half-breed, my delusional husband whose apparent worst fear was that I'd eventually wear him down and we'd have kids, and absolutely no one else, waiting around to lose my mind like the rest of these idiots.

"Hello, Natalie," Fraye's voice whispered.

Well, crap.

I turned to the Daughter of Darkness. To Loki. Back to Fraye again. And then, feeling sarcastic and annoyed, I snapped, "You know what? I have other things to deal with right now."

And then I turned right back to my husband, pushing my thoughts through the fog, and found myself enveloped by the nightmare in his head. I went in as Natalie Laufeyson…

 _And emerge on the other side as_ _ **Loki**_ _Laufeyson. And it's not long before the nightmare sucks me down into it._

 _I sit beside Natalie, my arm curled around her. She smiles blissfully at our daughter, our little girl. It took us so long to finally agree to have one, but she just wore me down eventually; and I am so glad that she did._

 _Our little girl is still small- our child, our baby- and she runs around the palace with a wild grin on her face. She looks just like Natalie did at that age- long brown hair, a carefree smile, even that ridiculous freckle on her shoulder, which Natalie laughed about for weeks because that's not where freckles are supposed to go and if our daughter had to inherit anything from her, why did it have to be that?-but she has my eyes. My vivid green eyes, brilliant and bedazzling on her face. She looks so happy, so joyful…_

 _If only our life could stay like this forever._

 _The years pass, though, as they always will. And she grows older, begins to have questions. She realizes that not everyone's mother has their father's name written into their arms, realizes that this is abnormal. She hears the whispers, when she goes to Earth, and though the Avengers swore they would never tell her the truth, other Midgardians are not so accommodating. She hears the rumors, the histories of long ago. And she does her research._

 _And she finds out the truth._

 _She waits. She waits before she comes to us, her parents, with her questions. Mostly because she is afraid of the answers. But she does come to us eventually, and I tell her all. Everything I did- to her mother, to her friends, the Avengers, to the Earth itself. I tell her the sickest love story of all time, the tale of how I met her mother, and I can see it in her eyes: she feels it, too. She has had dark whispers all of her life, just as I did. She has always wondered why she feels like a monster. And now she knows why. It's not because she is a half-breed, like so many people would have her believe: it is because she shares my blood._

 _Still, she takes it in. And she nods, agrees, thanks me for telling the truth. She says she can handle it. She says that everything's going to be all right. It's going to take a while to process it, but she loves me, loves our family, and all will be well._

 _All, of course, is not._

 _I tell Natalie that we should have told her sooner. That she should've known all of her life. But Natalie insists- as she has always insisted- that she did not want a child to know what torture was, to know that Fraye ever existed. She is right, of course. Our tale is one of blood and death; things that a child should not know. But now that child is older._

 _And she already knows of blood and death._

 _It's not long before the killing starts. An insect here, an animal there. I say nothing to Natalie- I swear I will not- until it graduates. Until the first mortal dies._

 _Our daughter laughs it off. "What's one more in our family, eh dad?"_

 _And now I see her become what I was, become what I worked so hard to fight. And we try to stop her, we try so very desperately, but then she runs. She runs and flees and we do not see her for months, not until she has amassed her own army, not until she shouts, "You'll be proud of me, dad! I'll do what you never had the chance to!"_

 _And of course, we are Avengers. And we join with our team, try to fight her, but Natalie begs for them not to hurt her, begs for the Avengers to show the mercy that our daughter will not show anyone else. But in the end, all of the mercy in the world cannot stop the inevitable. Our daughter is too powerful, unstoppable; and, to save their world, the Avengers destroy ours._

 _I hold Natalie back as she screams, as she battles against me, as our daughter spits blood onto the ground. She smiles up at us as the light fades from her eyes. It is a demented smile, the smile of darkness, the darkness that I passed on to her._

 _We bury her on Earth- Natalie refused to bury her on Jotunheim- and the world rejoices over her death as they rejoiced over what was supposed to be mine. Natalie locks herself away in her room. She does not talk. She does not sleep. She does not eat. She barely breathes._

 _She wastes away for months, keeping herself alive through sheer willpower. At last, carrying food and water, I break through the barricade on her door._

 _"Please, Natalie," I beg. "You have to eat something."_

 _She says nothing. She stares at the wall, as though our daughter stands just on the other side; but if she dares to go through that wall, she'll vanish forever._

 _"I loved her, too," I tell her. "I still do. But this isn't going to bring her back."_

 _I keep trying. Nothing works. At last, I leave the tray on the floor and turn away. Her hand whips up and catches me. She still stares at the wall._

 _"You did this," she says. Her voice is hoarse. "She was fine. Everything was fine, and then you…" she looks to me at last. There is betrayal and hurt and anger and hate in her eyes. "_ _ **You killed my little girl.**_ _"_

It was this statement- so wrong in its assumption, so foolish, so unlike anything that I would say- that rocked me back into myself, and I was Natalie Frost again, standing in front of Loki. Katy was no longer beside us, no longer screaming. She was somewhere far away in this forest, lost to us. I had no idea how long I was out; it seemed that these hallucinations followed weird dream-time; it could've been hours. Could've been seconds. I suspected the latter, because Loki apparently went through a reconciliation and agreed- tears streaking down his face- that, "Yes, we can try again. We'll do everything right this time," within the thirty seconds that I was standing there, staring dumbly at Fraye.

The Shadow Child looked at me with an expression of mute shock. "You totally ignored me."

"Little bit," I agreed, only half involved in this conversation.

"Are you serious?" She demanded, sounding completely _not_ like Fraye. "I appear right here, and all of a sudden, 'ooh, look a butterfly,' and you're gone!" She said the butterfly part in a pretty fair impression of my voice. I shrugged.

"You're old news, Burns."

She ran her hand through her hair. "I guess." She said, still sounding struck by this. And then she shook herself out of it. "Well, I suppose I always knew that I wasn't really your greatest fear, didn't I?" she smiled toothily. "So tell me, Natalie Frost. What _is_ the greatest fear of the person who fears everything?"

I looked around for Katydid, then turned to Loki trying to shake him out of it. "I dunno. Needles?" I lowered my voice as I said to Loki, "C'mon, Laufeyson, you know that's bullshit and you know it. Everyone makes their own choices in life. Even our kid. Especially our kid. Don't do this, okay?"

Fraye ignored the fact that I was ignoring _her._ "It's not me," she said slowly. "So might it be… waking up?"

And all of a sudden, I was back in my chair. Back in that nightmare, back in the darkness, shadows lashing at my back. I gasped in pain, screaming out, but Fraye clicked her tongue, shaking her head back and forth.

"No," she said slowly. "No, that's not it."

And she snapped her fingers. Blood coated my hands. My heart started to speed up as I saw the lifeless bodies of the Avengers, my husband, my parents and my friends all scattered around me. "Do you fear being a monster?" Fraye queried. And though I feared it- oh, _realms,_ did I fear it- she still shook her head. "No, that's not your _worst…_ "

"Do you fear him?" she asked, as a blood-soaked, demented Loki staggered towards me, eyes ablaze with madness. "Having to _kill_ him?" She added as a knife appeared in my hand. I knew it would only take one plunge to rid the world of him forever, and I started to tremble. But still, Fraye insisted, "That's not _it._

"Killing _them,_ perhaps? Or their death?" She asked, and suddenly the half-breeds, Reggie, Puck and Katydid, were all strewn about around me. Covered in various amounts of blood, looking horrible and gruesome in death. I turned away and felt vomit choking up my throat, but I didn't actually throw up because I felt a little bit ill earlier that morning and didn't eat anything.

And then, suddenly, she smiled. Her smile was a blaze, a million suns, and she grinned so dazzlingly. "No," She said quietly. "You fear all of these things… but none of them above the others. And you fear none of them more than you fear the truth." And suddenly, I was back where I was. Loki was gone, now, just like Katydid, and I realized that I was actually _not_ back where I was. I was in the forest, but I was running; and I was running _away_ from him.

"You're afraid of the truth of those half-breeds," Fraye cooed as I forced myself to stop. "Oh, and dear Natalie, it _is_ terrible." She winked out of existence, leaving nothing but shadows behind as she whispered in my ear, "And I'll just let you find out, shall I?"

And she disappeared altogether, leaving me to wonder if this was reality after all.

* * *

I wandered for a very, very long time. The sky was getting dark, the forest around me darker still, and I flared my glow in an effort to banish the shadows. I didn't know why I was so unafraid of Fraye before, because now I saw her in every shadow, every rustling leaf. I crossed my fingers, hoping to find one of the others soon; I didn't know if I could take being alone in the dark, in a forest meant to generate your worst fears.

Still, in my case, it was doing a pretty lousy job. I mean, that version of Fraye was more _annoying_ than blood-curdling.

Moments later, however, I heard a scream. I lifted my head up, eyes whipping around, trying to find the source; and the second I pinpointed it, I was running in that direction. Because I knew immediately who was screaming:

 _Katydid._

I scrambled forwards, feet flying, barely touching the ground. Something about that scream drove me onward faster than I thought I could go, adrenaline screaming in my blood. Liquid fire was pumping through me- something was hurting Katydid. Something was going to _die_ for that- but as I finally made it to my destination, I realized that there was no enemy. No one but those sick psychos known as the Fade, who had created this wretched forest in the first place.

Katy's eyes were no longer glassy. There were tears streaming down from them, but she was absolutely _here._ Still, she looked much younger now, much smaller, like the toddler I always thought she had to be. She was curled up in Reggie's arms, and Reg's eyes were no longer distant, either. She was completely and totally present, as was her brother beside her, and the pair of them were desperately trying to console Katydid.

"It's okay, Kat, it's fine," Reggie cooed, her eyes still a little wild and scared. "Really, you're fine, sweetie, you're fine…"

"Mommy," Katy whined, begging. "I want mommy…"

"She's not here, Katy," Puck cut in quickly. "She's not here right now, she's-"

"LIAR!" She shouted, turning teary eyes towards her brother. She looked terrible, like she'd been crying for hours. "Give me mommy, _I WANT MY MOMMY!"_

You couldn't blame the kid. For all that she was a badass little kicker of butts, she was still very young. I felt my heartstrings tugged more than they probably should've been. Something in me was pulling apart, and I didn't really realize that it even existed until it snapped.

And it _snapped._ Right when Katy looked at me and screamed, " _I JUST WANT MY MOMMY!"_

That scream woke something up inside of me. Something dangerous. Something feral, primal. Something that went way back when to the early days of humanity, when you had to fight off saber-toothed tigers and bears n'shit just to stop that screaming. Just to protect that voice. Something all the way down inside of me, some biological _need_ to destroy anything and everything that stood in my way until I could pick that kid up and hold her in my arms.

It was a realignment of gravity. And it was _intense._

I knew what it was. The instant I felt it, I knew _exactly_ what it was. I'd heard it described in countless books, I'd heard stories, I'd learned about it from countless people. It was instinct, pure and simple, and I knew exactly _which_ instinct it was.

But that wasn't _possible._

A little giggle- coming from the mouth of Fraye, who had told me that my greatest fear was learning the truth- preceded the words that came from her mouth next: "Is it? Is it really _impossible,_ Natalie Frost?"

A chill gripped me. My eyes darted to Puck, took him in, as I also thought back to his human form. _Black hair, green eyes, and an angular face that exists in both forms._

 _Loki's_ hair. _Loki's_ eyes. Even Loki's face shape.

I looked to Reggie next, staring at them all as Katy kept screaming, that cry that was breaking me. Her eyes were red- _just like Loki's-_ but her hair was brown, her skin tan. _Just like mine._ And Katydid, well, she had Loki's hair and eyes, at least in this form… And Puck was a strong telepath- _which was likely, from two telepathic parents-_ and Katy was an empath- _which was really just as likely…_

 _"MOMMY!"_ Katy screamed one more time- as Puck and Reggie frantically tried to calm her down, get her back under control- but she didn't even complete the word before I had her swept up into my arms, holding her tightly to myself, letting her cry out onto my shoulder.

"It's okay," I said, the words pouring out. They felt right. They were what I had to do. "It's okay. Mommy's here. Mommy's got you."

Katy snuffled and sniffed, tucking her face into my neck and still crying, sobbing in my arms. I felt her tears trickle onto my neck and down my shoulders as I turned cold eyes to Puck and Reggie. Both of them looked… scared.

"Mommy's right here," I repeated, holding my youngest child to my chest.


End file.
